


Circumstance

by KazooiesSpiritAnimal



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Multi, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 05:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 278,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4167456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KazooiesSpiritAnimal/pseuds/KazooiesSpiritAnimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the death of the Godaime invites instability and vulnerability into Konohagakure, Hatake Kakashi is called upon to lead the future of the Hidden Leaf. Yet the ripples of war continue to make waves in the shinobi stronghold. Though he accepts the challenge the past poses, the famous Copy Nin is not so willing to deal with the present, especially where his fixation with a seemingly unassuming Academy teacher is concerned...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: To new readers, welcome. To people who are familiar with this piece of work, welcome! And, I'm so sorry! ^_^

It was raining, when Kakashi arrived. The harsh downpour on deadened streets, darkened alleyways, and the biting chill engulfed within it, seemed to inspire a similar urgency to the notice sent to him via messenger hawk.

In fact, all active shinobi received the same notification he had. Kakashi might have understood the tragedy at greater depth, perhaps, through his own personal dealings, but with news so dire... Kakashi doubted a soul in Konoha did not already know and grieve over what had been feared since the end of the war.

The statement issued stated as followed:

_Twenty hundred hours this evening marked the passing of Hokage Godaime. All active shinobi are to abort their missions and return to Konoha, immediately._

It was much too soon, Kakashi thought, racing back to the village. Though he never voiced his concerns, the Legendary Copy Nin had held high hopes for Tsunade’s recovery. No one in the village expected her to die and so abruptly. For Kakashi, it was a heavy blow to his conscience, rooted in his concern for Naruto, who had long since forced his high spirits on the village that was once so grateful to him, the entire world, for saving them from Pain, from Madara Uchiha and the Fourth Shinobi World War.

Team 7 had disbanded, since then, to pursue their own individual careers, so Kakashi didn't see much of his former student. When he did see Naruto, the blonde blob of determined zeal was in his usual high spirits, helping the village reconstruct the outskirts from all the battle damage. The jonin hated to imagine what this new blow might have done to Naruto's morale.

It interested Kakashi, how Naruto came to mind. His former student was his first priority when learning Tsunade had passed on. The more Naruto worked to prove his worth to the village Kakashi couldn't help but feel a small sense of pride and affection, as if Naruto was of his own kin. Kakashi skipped branch after branch, roof after roof, thinking of how he played favorites during his stint as Team 7's sensei. He shook his head... Despite his detached persona, Kakashi had felt he shared a bond with Sasuke Uchiha.

At least, he once believed he did.

Perhaps that was his fault, the lingering loyalties of brotherhood between himself and Itachi Uchiha, from their ANBU days that now felt to him like a whole other lifetime ago.

It was eerily quiet, Kakashi observed. Every now and then the sound of wailing could be heard—the collective lament of a village that had lost its leader. It was the same when Minato died, as well as Hiruzen. Kakashi stopped at the Memorial Stone, the familiar sight a crutch for all his woes. He nudged his fingers against his brow and the ascending moon shined against the metal plate on his fingerless glove. He closed his one visible eye and opened it slowly, noticing for the first time all the frantic shinobi jumping about the night. It was late, and Kakashi's fellow ninja were returning to their homes, offices or missions room, in order to find some sort of comfort and solidarity.

Their shinobi minds were in sync. No village could sustain peace without a leader. As of now, Konoha was vulnerable to foreign attacks.

Kakashi left the memorial sight, where the dagger strikes of rain pouring on the stone filled him with his own unique sense of numbness, and jumped off to the first place that materialized in his mind. Naruto's apartment. But when he got there, hanging lazily by the open windowsill, he quickly sensed that the unit was empty, still...much too still for Naruto Uzumaki – much too quiet for Kakashi's liking.

He flashed off to the next possible place, or, at least the next place he was willing to go. Though Naruto would be the type to visit a close person who had fallen ill or dead, Kakashi knew Naruto wouldn't be anywhere near Tsunade. For one, a Hokage's body was off limits to both civilians and shinobi who were not specialists, doctors or coronary technicians. Even family and friends, however close, were denied access so to ensure the safety of the remains and eliminate any possibility of sabotage or contamination. The Hokage's tower and anywhere near Tsunade's offices would be off limits, as well. That left three places: Ichiraku's, which was highly inappropriate, Iruka-sensei's, and a place Kakashi rather not bring to mind.

Kakashi took the respectable course and decided to knock on Iruka-sensei's front door. Any other day, he would have opted for the windowsill, as he always did, annoying the Academy teacher in the process. He found it entertaining to see the younger man flush red with irritation, those warm brown eyes of his narrowing in on the jonin the same way they did in the Missions Room, when Kakashi turned in a report that was less than satisfactory. Since Naruto's first Chunin Exam, Kakashi managed to find any opportune moment in his busy schedule to accost Iruka with feigned politeness and false interest. He almost felt bad for how the innocent teacher fell for his nuanced antics, time and time again, and Kakashi might have stopped long ago had it not been so life reaffirming.

Now Kakashi had Iruka-sensei on the mind. Maybe his subconscious was honing in on those he sensed suffered most in this time of tragedy. Not that he and Iruka were good friends or even tolerated each other’s company at times, but the one person they shared in common, and cared equally for, was Naruto. When he wasn't away, off on a mission, Kakashi found most of his time spent joining Naruto and Iruka for ramen or helping them reconstruct the village. He'd learned a lot about the chunin, a lot of which he wished he could erase from his memory banks because the knowledge was so utterly useless.

After a few moments of reflection, Kakashi rapped on Iruka's door again and met with the same steely silence, until... "It's open," he heard the chunin's soft-spoken reply. Kakashi let himself in, first taking in the immaculate cleanliness of the younger man's apartment. It caught him off-guard, every time, knowing that Naruto spent as much of his free time with Iruka as he did at Ichiraku's. He quickly spotted Iruka and the young man sitting on the couch, both hunched over themselves. Iruka looked up first, one hand still rubbing small circles into Naruto's back.

"Hello, Kakashi-sensei," the man smiled, albeit sadly. Even then, the smile was short-lived and fell tragically from Iruka's face. Despite himself, Kakashi found the relentlessly friendly smile that graced Iruka's lips just as gratifying as the torment that made the chunin frown.

"Iruka-sensei," Kakashi nodded, closing the door behind him. He went to address Naruto but fell short when he realized the state the blonde was in. His head rested against the palms of his hands, his elbows stabbing into his thighs more than resting. Due to the warm lighting of Iruka's living room, the orange of Naruto's attire melded into the burnt beige of Iruka's couch. It would seem to any onlooker as though the blonde was slowly disappearing into the security of Iruka's furniture.

He looked to Iruka but the chunin had quickly forgotten the other man was there, standing in the middle of his home, instead focusing on the young man in his charge. Kakashi found himself watching the two, the way Iruka quietly consoled and reassured Naruto. Naruto's subtle shoulder shrugs indicated his reciprocation of Iruka's comfort. Kakashi couldn't recall a time he accepted such comfort when the Fourth, his sensei, had died. Iruka was the perfect fit, a perfect guardian and parent figure, especially when it came to Naruto. Iruka was a kind and caring, gentle soul...nothing like what shinobi were groomed to be—were notorious for being. The simple chunin was good with children. Coddled them, really.

It was a real wonder how any student of Iruka's even managed to graduate from the Academy.

"Naruto," Kakashi finally muttered through the tight restraint of his mask. Naruto didn't look to him. He didn't move at all to acknowledge his presence.  
  
"He's been like this since the news reached him," Iruka explained measurably, his gentle gaze still intent on watching the young man before them. Kakashi decided to hone in on Iruka, again, wearily eyeing him. Iruka must have felt his lingering gaze, because the chunin slowly turned towards him. "I started thinking he might be in shock. I know, maybe it's not as bad as when Jiraiya-sama died, but... I made sure to deliver the news to him myself."

"When did you find out?" Kakashi asked a bit tersely.

"I was with Shizune, helping her with Tsunade-sama's paperwork load."

"I was on a mission when I got the news," Kakashi felt the need to say. Iruka nodded, as though accepting Kakashi's previous obligations, before returning his attention to the brooding boy beside him. He reached around Naruto's shoulders and pulled him into a slight hug. Naruto responded by tilting into the embrace. "Are you knowledgeable in what has taken place?"

"No one's been informed yet, given the classified nature of the information, but rumor has it Tsunade-sama's body could no longer take the strain. With years of rigorous regeneration, using her Creation Rebirth technique, the drain that occurred during the war, Madara, not to mention Tsunade's old age...they assume her body could never really recuperate from all that."

"It's never good to assume, Iruka, especially now," Kakashi grounded, in need to rebuff with some kind of response. Whenever Iruka mentioned the war, Kakashi couldn't help but recall the predicament in which he found the chunin while tracking down the Akatsuki member Pain. To imagine that a moment too late, a split second behind Pain's movements, Iruka would have been another body to count among the throng of fallen soldiers...if Naruto was stunted by Jiraiya's death and deeply traumatized by Tsunade's now, then Kakashi did not even want imagine the agony his former charge would be putting himself through had Iruka died by Pain's hand. Naruto would have never recovered had he lost Iruka and probably would have forever disavowed Kakashi had he not stopped Pain in time.

"I know that," Iruka sulked, cautiously, causing a frown to form beneath Kakashi's mask. "That's just what people are saying. The preliminary report hasn't been released yet." Iruka brushed the palm of his hand up against the side of Naruto's head, allowing his fingers to graze through Naruto's blonde locks soothingly, lovingly.

"Well, I wouldn't be too hesitant to consider the possibility of foul-play afoot," Kakashi pressed on, "what with the war at its end and Konoha still in a state of vulnerability, it would be easy for an enemy nation to infiltrate our numbers and further their political agenda." Naruto's shoulders tensed. "With all active shinobi here, protecting their own, who's to say there's not a plot against Konoha being played out just outside our borders?"

Iruka's face fell, his eyes simultaneously burning into Kakashi's one-eyed leer. "That's enough, Kakashi.”

"You are an Academy teacher, Iruka. You do not understand the limitations of _enough_ quite yet."

"You're upsetting Naruto," Iruka hissed, unfazed by Kakashi's sharp tongue. He was too concerned to care whether he respected him or not, Kakashi gathered. In fact, it wasn't anger or annoyance in Iruka's tone but fear and worry, confronted by the all too real possibility of Kakashi's words. Iruka's face softened. "Kakashi-sensei, I take it you've returned very late. I imagine your recent mission took you to a very far distance, but there was a meeting that you missed just a few hours after Tsunade-sama's death."

"Maa... Care to inform me on the particulars, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi asked, sure to keep his critical personality at bay. He didn't want to start an argument with Iruka and get him all hot and bothered, as per usual, so he retreated in stance and approach, pocketing his hands in the hollows of his pants. He looked to Naruto, whose gaze was still shot to the floor.

"What number of shinobi available at the time were addressed in one of the assembly rooms. We were ordered to be on the alert and ensure the safety of others, to make sure all civilians were indoors, and to form teams to take shifts and reassess the village."

"Why aren't you on duty then?"

Iruka's gaze turned bewildered. "I couldn't leave Naruto's side."

"He's a capable shinobi," Kakashi examined, in a bored tone. "I'm sure he can take care of himself." Iruka chose not to respond to Kakashi's insincerity, focusing all his attention on Naruto. "I didn't come here to upset Naruto, but I'm sure even he understands that now is not the time to wallow in sadness. The Hokage is dead, and we need to be more vigilant than ever before."

Iruka shook his head, disapprovingly, frustration straining his gentler attributes. "Surely, you don't mean that."

"I never say anything I do not mean, Iruka-sensei."

"Kakashi-sensei is right," Naruto said at last. Slowly, the tense and physically petrified young man lifted up to reveal a face riddled with emotions. All that turmoil, all that frustration Kakashi saw. Naruto gladly surrendered his inner demons, for just a moment, to award Iruka's efforts with a small, strained smile.

"Thanks, Iruka," he swallowed deeply.

"I'm here for you," Iruka said, his own smile equally troubled at the corners of his lips. He patted Naruto on the shoulder one last time and allowed him to rise to his feet. Naruto's usual exuberance all but remained dormant, clinging to life, accompanied by sagging shoulders and a lowered gaze.

"I should get some rest and take a shift tomorrow," Naruto said.

"Are you sure?" Iruka asked, standing. "I'm sure you, of all people, would be allowed to...to see Tsunade-sama's body. If you wanted."

"Not even Naruto is allowed access to a Hokage's body, no matter how close he was. Human error can still occur, Iruka-sensei."

"That's not a fact I need be reminded of, Kakashi-sensei."

"It'll be alright, Iruka-sensei," Naruto cut in, addressing the man with unavoidable affection. "I can wait, but I know that if I don't get sleep now I'll be no use to anyone come tomorrow!" Naruto smiled sadly.

"If you're sure..." Iruka was not convinced, Kakashi could tell. He would have chucked it up to Iruka being his usual clingy, over-protective self, but Kakashi felt the same red flags of doubt. Just when the death toll couldn't possibly get any higher, one of Konoha's most prominent and most influential figures fall just a few years after the last great battle against Madara Uchiha. Friends and former classmates of Naruto's had fallen, as well as civilians the blonde had never met. Naruto took every death to heart, his go-getter, never-stop, mentality concealing his deep-seeded pains like a silk gauze dressed over a stab wound.

It was insufferable to bear witness.

"I just need sleep," Naruto insisted. "Hinata must be wondering where I am. Maybe I should visit Sakura-chan before heading home, too. She and Tsunade-sama were really close, but she's been in disbelief since..." Naruto paused, staring off into space. Kakashi didn't make a sound or move a muscle and neither did Iruka, watching their former student succumb to an unfortunate train of thought.

"Goodnight, Iruka-sensei. Goodnight, Kakashi-sensei." Naruto addressed them with good nature and, just like that, disappeared in a puff of smoke.

When the smoke of Naruto's jutsu cleared, Kakashi found himself staring eye-to-eye with Iruka who stood momentarily frazzled. He noticed the long hard stare Kakashi bestowed upon him and felt the familiar crimson heat spread across his face, flooding beneath the horizontal scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Tea?" he offered, moving into his kitchen area.

"Sure," Kakashi replied, following Iruka with his gaze still. The chunin walked with fluid movements, his home so familiar to him that Kakashi wouldn't have been surprised if Iruka could navigate his way with his eyes closed. Kakashi felt foreign in his own apartment, didn't feel the sense of security he thought he should. True, his kitchen, his bathroom, his bedroom, his living room, his door, and even his windows came with their own specialized ward that needed to be dismantled every time he came home. However, Kakashi spent more time on the field and less time with his own possessions and so never felt as relaxed as the man now serving two steaming cups of tea.

Truthfully, Kakashi didn't understand Iruka. He didn't understand the way the Academy teacher displayed photos of random students on his walls, of Naruto, and terribly drawn stick figures of himself standing in front of the school with the title "Sensei" written in coloring pens. He couldn't understand why Iruka's apartment was always so pleasantly warm, when his own seemed to generate a cold and hostile environment. Kakashi couldn't grasp the comforting colors coating the walls that, no doubt, traveled from the living room and the kitchen and throughout the entire apartment. Trinkets and keepsakes that were not weapons, had nothing to do with being a shinobi, littered Iruka's spare shelves and surfaces. A few old scrolls hung from the living room walls. Kakashi once asked the man where he'd acquired artifacts of such great treasure and was a little taken aback to learn they were gifts from the Sandaime.

Iruka drifted from his kitchen, setting two cups of hot tea down on his coffee table. He sat down on the floor, in that gap between the table and his couch. Kakashi followed suit, sitting on the opposite side of him. His one visible eye crinkled into a makeshift smile, of gratitude, when Iruka pushed his tea forward.

"Here you are, Kakashi-sensei."

"Thank you."

The two drank in silence. Kakashi watched Iruka, a pastime he quite enjoyed, while Iruka noticeably fidgeted under his long stare. It was because Iruka fidgeted, scratched the bridge of his nose and shifted his glances that Kakashi enjoyed watching the chunin. Iruka had all these idiosyncrasies, quirks that he so openly shared to the world. For someone like Kakashi who, when he wasn't engrossed in his Icha Ichi series enjoyed observing other people, Iruka proved himself a most entertaining subject.

"This is good tea," Kakashi commented, sipping through his mask.

"It's just the regular matcha I always make," Iruka voiced, blushing at the compliment. Kakashi was beginning to think the red tinge of Iruka's face was a permanent hue. He thought if Iruka wanted to be a good shinobi, he should invest in a mask like his own.

"You always make it well, Iruka-sensei."

"Thank you," Iruka smiled sheepishly. Kakashi smiled again, one of those fake smiles Iruka always confused with a real one. Iruka was too trusting for Kakashi's liking. They continued in their companionable silence, sipping and pausing harmoniously. It was then Kakashi realized his shinobi gear was still somewhat drenched and that the reason for him being there had already disappeared in a puff of smoke. Still he remained seated, listening to the pouring rain outside Iruka's curtained windows.

Iruka looked comfortable, sitting there with his vest lying on the couch. The sleeves of his turtleneck were rolled up to the middle of his forearms, and his clothes were obviously dry in comparison to Kakashi's.

"Kakashi, you're soaking!" Iruka gasped, when he finally noticed the water dripping from Kakashi's untamed mane of silver hair.

"How observant of you, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi stated, in a dull drawl. Iruka ignored his tone, or just hadn’t detected it, and went off towards the hallway Kakashi surmised led to the bathroom and the bedroom. He waited a few seconds, staring at the empty spot where Iruka used to be, until a familiar set of footsteps returned, padding against the carpeted floor.

"Here," Iruka said, with care, handing Kakashi a large towel. Kakashi took it, not expecting Iruka to linger at his side with his hand outreached. "Maa, do you want it back?"

"No," Iruka frowned. "Your vest is soaking wet...you're open to illness." With a sigh, Kakashi relinquished his vest and felt noticeably more comfortable having done so. Not that he would tell Iruka that. He was shinobi, after all, a proud soldier who was use to discomfort. Long grueling missions with nasty ration bars to eat, itchy wool blankets to drape over oneself on harsh cold nights, the never-ending assault of injuries that never managed to heal properly but constantly needed to be re-wrapped to avoid infection, and the persistent possibly of death... That was Kakashi's life on a daily basis, a life Iruka seemed utterly removed from. No doubt Iruka thought something like a wet vest to be life-threatening.

"You're too kind," Kakashi murmured, watching Iruka dangle the green vest over the kitchen counter. He dried himself off to the best of his ability, starting with his hair. He moved down to his covered face and neck, pressing the towel deep into the fabric of his mask.

"Don't mention it," Iruka chuckled. Kakashi moved to remove his long-sleeved shirt, leaving his muscled arms bare. He padded the dark burgundy towel down his chest and mid-section and met with his own solid form. He reached behind his back and down the front, rubbing the top of his thighs.

"Not to be rude, Kakashi-sensei, but even a shinobi of your caliber can be careless of your own well-being."

"Oh? That's not true," Kakashi frowned.

"Trust me." Iruka looked up and, when he noticed the jonin's sleeved shirt had been removed from the man's body, he momentarily paused. "It's true."

"I guess I've spent more time with you and Naruto than I originally thought," Kakashi shrugged, tossing his wet shirt across the room. Iruka caught it, somewhat still taken aback. He let his eyes wander to the Anbu tattoo draped vertically down the side of Kakashi's upper arm and quickly looked away, wringing Kakashi's shirt out over the kitchen sink before laying it out beside the man's vest. He then unassumingly returned to his seat on the floor. Kakashi's headband remained draped over one implanted eye, his mask still intact, and his hair more disheveled than ever.

"Would you like me to get you a blanket?" Iruka offered.

"No, I'm fine," Kakashi replied, "but thank you."

The two returned to a familiar rhythm, where what should have been considered an awkward accompanying was something of a pleasant routine. Kakashi couldn't describe what he felt, when in Iruka's presence. He already preferred the man's apartment to his own, which was probably why he continued to linger long after Naruto's departure.

Kakashi would never admit it, but he enjoyed Iruka's company. The way the Academy teacher often went on for hours, talking about his students, old and new, the way he refused to speak a bad word about anyone, even Genma and Anko: two shinobi Kakashi knew well to infuriate the man more than himself at times. Iruka organized nights where he and Naruto watched movies or engaged in some playful challenge or another, and Kakashi never managed to refuse Naruto's offer to join them. The way Iruka sometimes lost his temper amused Kakashi to no end. He loved the chunin's hysterical mood swings, which usually kept him on his feet dodging flying objects. Then Kakashi would recite how shinobi were trained to keep their emotions in check, and the fun would start all over again. Iruka was shinobi by title, by profession, but certainly not by lifestyle, and Kakashi couldn't figure out whether he appreciated this fact about Iruka or envied the man. On late nights like these, if not on a mission, Kakashi probably would have found himself in this very spot—dry, watching Iruka have another go at teaching Naruto the finer points of a shogi game.

As it was, the night was clouded with confusion and helplessness. Naruto likely went to visit Sakura or had gone home to Hinata. Other shinobi had no doubt joined forces with colleagues or went home to comfort their families. Kakashi found he didn't want to leave Iruka's side. He didn't want to return to his desolate and lonely apartment just yet.

Iruka must have sensed his troubling thoughts, or perhaps he had fallen into such a pitiful state that even a chunin as blissfully naïve as Iruka could see the deep creases etched into his brow. "Is there something on your mind, Kakashi-sensei?" Iruka asked, slowly sipping his tea.

"Maa… I was just thinking about Naruto and how he'll handle this,” Kakashi lied, gulping down a bit more of his tea.

"I know I can be a bit of a worrier," Iruka grew red in the face again, with embarrassment, "but you were right, earlier. Naruto is a capable shinobi. Sometimes I forget that he's not that knucklehead kid I once taught at the Academy.” Iruka grinned fondly.

"You shouldn't baby him the way you do," Kakashi frowned, effectively removing the smile from Iruka's face.

"Excuse me?"

"You're too clingy, like a peckish mother hen."

"And you're a cold-hearted snake," Iruka snarled, "and I am not clingy."

"Alright then," Kakashi hummed. "You're not clingy. You're latched on by the scruff of his neck, like a mother wolf. You treat everything around him like it’s life-threatening."

"Oh, well, I apologize for showing him how much I care," Iruka said, his face a red palette of anger. This was what Kakashi did not want, not tonight. He knew Iruka to get easily riled up, the man being a buffet of conflicting emotions that lashed out at the slightest provocation. Usually the chunin fought to control his emotional outbursts, much to Kakashi's enjoyment, but on such a night as this it was difficult to watch Iruka in such a weakened state and find much enjoyment. "He is hurting right now, and you expect me to abide by some arbitrary shinobi code?" Iruka slammed a fist against his coffee table and, had Kakashi been any other kind of man, he would have flinched.

Their cups of tea lay discarded, forgotten.

"Maa, Iruka-sensei, calm down..."  
  
  
  
"No, I will NOT calm down!" Iruka pushed himself from off the floor and proceeded to pace back and forth, his eyes roaming the walls frantically. "Tsunade-sama's dead...she's actually dead."

In that moment, Kakashi understood. He watched the other man walk back and forth from behind the coffee table, his rage no longer trapped from within himself. Iruka must have put his own grief aside to tend to Naruto, the jonin figured. It would explain this sudden outburst. Iruka wasn't really mad at him but at the situation.

"I thought—I mean, we all thought Tsunade-sama would survive this. Everyone thought the worse was over. Konoha couldn't possibly fall into worse shape. Now everything Tsunade-sama stood for, the peace we fought for, might fall apart. But the worst part in all of this is I know Naruto! I know he's blaming himself right now, for something that is beyond his control, and you want me not to comfort him?"

Okay, maybe Iruka was mad at him.

"How dare you!"

"IRUKA." Kakashi had long since moved to confront Iruka by the time the chunin finished his hysterical ranting. He placed his gloved hands on Iruka's shoulders, stopping the shorter man in mid pace. "Calm down," Kakashi repeated with an alarming amount of softness in his tone. His demand held more weight to it, however, and so Iruka did indeed calm down. The Academy teacher stopped resisting and allowed his shoulders to go slack beneath Kakashi's firm grip. His wide-eyed glare fell to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Kakashi-sensei," he huffed. "I guess I got carried away."

"You and Tsunade-sama were considerably close." Iruka offered a slow nod and Kakashi found himself smiling, sadly, even though Iruka couldn't see it. He found himself reluctant to release his grip, unsure as to whether or not the chunin would go into another fit. He brushed his hands down Iruka's shoulders and found his thumbs rubbing small circles there, similar to the kind of caressing Iruka had afforded Naruto. Kakashi quickly let his hands fall to his side, bemused by his own affection, but Iruka didn't seem to notice.

Iruka eventually looked up, with that familiar crimson glow on his face, his outburst a remnant between them. He backed away, shaking his head, as though doing so might dispel the remaining tension.

"I know it's late, Kakashi-sensei, and I’ve already put away the leftovers but, if you'd like, I could heat up some miso eggplant soup for you."

"You made miso eggplant soup?" Kakashi asked, intrigued.

"Yes,” Iruka nodded, “and beef ramen, because I know how much Naruto hates eggplant.” He gave a soundless chuckle. “I remember Naruto mentioning some time ago that it was your favorite, and I had a feeling you'd be here looking for Naruto," he explained. Kakashi gaped beneath his mask, conflicted by the option to stay and eat. He then recalled having not eaten more than a few ration bars for the last week or so and, as any shinobi knew, ration bars just didn't cut it when compared to a home cooked meal. Hateful to admit it, Iruka's cooking was unmatched in perfection and fulfilling, as it had to be in order to satiate Naruto's appetite. Now that Kakashi knew what to smell for, the faint linger of the meals Iruka cooked earlier grated on his senses. Everything...everything was perfect: the room, the lights, the smell, the warmth. Iruka's apartment could easily make anyone forget about death and the relentless weather storming into the dead of night.

"Iruka."

"Yes?"

Kakashi swallowed, the lump of his throat rubbing against the fabric of his mask.

"Tsunade-sama is dead," he said out loud, a reality to himself at long last settling into the darkest pit of his heart. He stepped forward, his piercing grey eye searching Iruka for any trace of solace. The chunin permeated warmth, something that Kakashi's relatively damp body couldn't help but long to feel. Iruka stared at him, not at all unnerved by the close proximity between them. Kakashi didn't understand why he expected Iruka to be unnerved by him. He expected the chunin to revere him, to fear him, as so many of Konohagakure and beyond did. Iruka displayed neither reservations toward the jonin, and that Kakashi cared so little about this fact befuddled him. Now he didn't know what he wanted Iruka to feel towards him. "She's dead," he repeated, "and she's not coming back...” In any way, he left unspoken, like the brief return of his dead sensei and former confidante, Minato, a happening of which Kakashi regarded as the delusions of his battle bludgeoned mind still.

Iruka's eyes, unwavering and revealing, brimmed with sadness.  
  
"I know."

Iruka lowered his sights, to where the chunin's honest gaze naturally reached the tip of Kakashi’s chin. Kakashi knew the best course of action would be to flee, leave now, before he did something stupid, like, apologize for upsetting Iruka.

"I should go," he said, stepping away. Iruka stood, vacantly, watching him retreat.

"You're not leaving like that," he said, his authoritative “teacher” tone coming into play. "You're not wearing a shirt or your gear...you're completely exposed to the elements. Here," Iruka hurried off towards his private rooms, again, and returned with a folded long-sleeved shinobi shirt. He tossed it to Kakashi who caught it thoughtlessly.

Kakashi stared, amused, as Iruka crossed his arms over his chest and tapped a single bare foot repeatedly against the floor. He knew the chunin was going to stand there and make sure he put the shirt on, like monitoring an insolent child to ensure they did as they were told. Kakashi could have laughed, not at all peeved by Iruka's misplaced concern. He put the shirt on, noticing how it didn't necessarily reach the extent of his abdomen. He would depend on the tight, navy blue undershirt he always wore to keep him covered from below. The sleeves of Iruka's shirt reached only just below his wrists and felt a bit loose.

"My you are a stumpy man, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi mused.

"I'm not that short," Iruka snapped, unknowingly poutting. It was another quirk of Iruka's to be unaware of his own facial expressions. Kakashi pulled the wading shirt down, affronted with the scent of evergreen, chalk, and sturdy wood. Of course Iruka's shirt would smell exactly as the chunin did. Earthly.

Kakashi turned with a two fingered wave in the air.

"Not so fast."

Kakashi stopped in his tracks.

"Yes, mother?" Kakashi jeered in a low voice.

"You don't have a vest, Copy Nin. Should something happen, you'd be completely defenseless, wouldn't you...?"

“Maa, not completely...” Kakashi turned to face the chunin, again, noting how Iruka hadn't moved from his crossed-arm, foot pounding position. The chunin's face remained ingrained with annoyance and concern. Kakashi smirked and, with mischief in his eye, advanced on Iruka.

His swift movements caught the other man by surprise. No longer did the chunin tap his foot or cross his arms, too focused on the jonin pressing himself against him. Flabbergasted, Iruka stepped back, only to find the back of his knees hitting the couch behind him. Slowly, Kakashi reached forward, brushing his hand past Iruka's arm and toward the navy green chunin vest hanging over the armrest. Kakashi pulled up again, amused by the blush spreading all the way to Iruka's ears.

"Uh..." Iruka gaped, watching the jonin put his arms through his vest.

"Thanks for the borrow, Iruka-sensei." Kakashi zipped himself up, noticing the tightness around his shoulders. Not that shinobi uniforms were one size fit all, but he didn't expect Iruka's clothes to fit him so terribly. It then occurred to him that he was actually wearing Iruka's clothing.

"Don't mention it," the chunin mumbled. "I should go with you, you know. You need a team."

Kakashi shook his head. "No, you stay here." Kakashi readjusted Iruka's vest. "You shouldn't worry about me...I've got a team." At Iruka's confusion, Kakashi ripped open his thumb and slammed the palm of his hand against the floor. He looked up just in time to see and hear Iruka roll his eyes and sigh in realization.

"You're cleaning up the dog hair," Iruka challenged, smiling. Eight dogs, all different shapes and sizes, suddenly rushed about Iruka's living room and accosted him with one great simultaneous pounce. Iruka fell flat on his behind, trying with earnest to pet every dog with equal time and attention.

"Iruka-sensei! Iruka-sensei!" barked a golden-brown dog, the one who reminded Iruka of Naruto so much. It could have something to do with the whiskers across his cheeks, his cheeky grin, or the permanent look of mischief on the dog's face. He licked Iruka across the cheek and circled around a few dozen times.

"Hello, Guruko," Iruka laughed. When the dogs began to protest, each one trying to steal his attention away with a lick or brush against his stomach, Iruka decided to name them off as a collective greeting. "Hello Shiba, hello Urushi, hello Akino, hello Uhei, hello Bisuke, hello Bull."

Bull grunted, strolling over to rest against Iruka's back.

"Yo, Iruka!" Pakkun called out, finally revealing a bored expression among his brethren. He perched himself on Iruka's lap, kneading his paws into the chunin's thighs. "Long time no see."

"Hey, Pakkun," Iruka smiled broadly.

"You got any food?" the pug asked.

"FOOD!" Guruko cried, sending the other dogs into a tizzy. "Kakashi doesn't feed us!" Guruko wailed out amid barks and howls.

"What are you trying to say? Get off him," Kakashi pulled Guruko up by the shirt. "We've got work to do."

"But I wanna stay here," Guruko whimpered, clawing towards the chunin on the floor. Iruka stared at him with a sad smile. Guruko wasn't the only one of his ninken clinging to Iruka's side, making pitiful sounds and complaining about not having eaten in days. To make matters worse, Iruka was giving in to their spoiled behavior, rubbing bellies and scratching ears. Kakashi sneered in disgust, watching his finest shinobi dogs cuddle up into Iruka's embrace. He regretted having ever let them out during the reconstruction process, when they better acquainted themselves and practically fell in love with the Academy teacher. His own dogs liked Iruka more than him.

"What's up, Kakashi?" Pakkun asked, turning around. He felt a pair of fingers reach for an itch behind his ear and practically melted. The pug stared at Kakashi, challenging, and for the life of him Kakashi felt an uneasy sense of jealousy crawl under his skin. Pakkun sighed deeply while drinking in the pampering Kakashi never let anyone get close enough to give him. "You're amazing, youngin'," Pakkun grinned, with his eyes closed.

"You're welcome," Iruka sighed, smiling.

"Play time's over," Kakashi said sternly, nudging his dogs with his foot.

"What's the mission this time?" Pakkun asked, unmoved. Iruka petted him without much thought, waiting on Kakashi's word.

"We have lookout duty," Kakashi stated slowly. "The Godaime is dead."

Eight wet noses shot into the air, and Iruka paused in his mindless ministrations. Kakashi saw the discernment and sudden alertness in his ninken and collectively awarded them a curt nod.

"You know the drill." His dogs leaped to their feet, quickly forming groups of two. Kakashi set Guruko on the floor, and his most rambunctious ninkin fell in line. "Akino and Guruko," a mustered yellow dog wearing round sunglasses nodded his head, "you two take the front gates. Shiba and Bisuke," a burgundy dog with a brown tuft of hair on his head and a smaller dog with raccoon eyes nodded, "I want you two to keep me notified of all of comings and goings in Konoha's underground passageways. “Urushi and Uhei," a wild-eyed grey dog and a field dog, with its long neck taped over, nodded, "you two keep surveillance over the village's market district."

Kakashi lifted his arm into the air, signaling their dismissal, then looked down to Bull. The big dog refused to move from under Iruka's warm body, but listened in on Kakashi's orders.

"Bull, you're coming with me. We'll monitor the outskirts."

"You got it, boss," Bull grumbled. He looked to Iruka appreciatively. "Do you mind, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka's eyes grew wide with understanding. "Not at all," he muttered, leaning forward so Bull could rise up from under him. The big black dog turned around and gave Iruka one giant lick across the cheek, before walking over to Kakashi. Iruka looked like a fool, all smiles, strangely vexing Kakashi.

"Hey boss, what about me?" Pakkun asked, jumping from Iruka's lap.

Kakashi looked to Pakkun cheerfully. "You can look after Iruka-sensei."

"What?" Pakkun and Iruka chorused, equally baffled.

"I don't need to be looked after!"

"That's a boring mission and you know it, pup!"

"Who are you calling boring?"

"Oh…not you, Iruka," Pakkun playfully reassured. "I love you..." the pug brushed his head up against Iruka's chest, hopefully easing the feigned anger growing inside the chunin. Iruka slowly released the grip of his waist, petting Pakkun wearily.

"I guess we can cook you up something to eat," Iruka wagered. Pakkun nodded his head vigorously.

"Yes! Let's do that!"

"I'm hungry, too," Bull frowned.

"Don't worry," Iruka reassured, affectionately. "We'll cook for you as well. I'll make a meal for all of you, since your master feels so inclined to starve you." Kakashi brushed a hand through his hair, his murderous stare going completely ignored.

"Bull." The dog nodded. "Let's go." With one final glance and a curt nod, Kakashi was off with Bull in tow. He instantly regretted it, the moment he left the comfort of Iruka's home. It rained harder than ever outside and, every now and then, a quick flash of lightning marred the skyline, followed by a distant roar of thunder.  
  
Kakashi knelt upon the roof of Iruka's apartment, gauging the proximity of his ninken and fellow shinobi about, out guarding the night. Below him remained two familiar signatures of chakra. Pakkun and Iruka. A distance away he felt Naruto's slow circulating chakra, as the young man slumbered. He searched for Sakura's chakra and the small recessive amount permeating from her parents. There was one last chakra, one last lingering signature that Kakashi rather pretend did not exist.

Then there was the absence of chakra that struck Kakashi with the pain of a loyal soldier. It was all encompassing, leaving one born to Konohagakure with that hollow feeling that never truly went away, no matter how many Hokage deaths one lived to witness. Kakashi had already witnessed three out of five. The era of the Fourth and the Fifth had ended far too soon. This made the jonin think about Naruto, again, and how he longed to be Hokage. Would he last much longer? Naruto wasn't too far from his goal. The village already respected him, admired him. He saved the lives of thousands from Pain's attack. He stood against Madara and convinced Sasuke Uchiha to turn himself in. His execution date was pending.

Kakashi silently cursed himself, having promised himself he wouldn't think about that.

Things were just starting to play out in Naruto's favor. Then, all too suddenly, the delicate balance of Shinobi life had tipped in scale. The ripples of war continued to wreak havoc on the village. Kurama's continued existence within Naruto continued to challenge the approval of the village.

Kakashi sighed, standing. He looked to Bull again, but the dog had busied himself with sniffing about Iruka's rooftop.

"Oi," Kakashi scoffed. Bull turned his head, moving towards his master

"I'm smellin' something out of place, boss," he sniffed, and sniffed and sniffed, until he was brushing his nose up against Kakashi's leg. He stuck his nose into Kakashi's gloved hand, nipped at the man's sleeve, and huffed. "You smell like Iruka-sensei, boss," Bull stated matter-of-factly.

"I know," Kakashi scratched the back of his head. "Likewise, Bull."

"I like it." Bull stepped back, a gruff smile on his face.

"I'm so glad you approve." The two set off for the outskirts of Konoha, leaving Kakashi no choice but to happily leave thoughts of Iruka behind him, his thoughts hellbent on securing the village the Godaime upheld with her very life.

Little did Kakashi know that somewhere, deep within the inner workings of Konohagakure, the fate of the Late Lady Tsunade was not the only subject of discussion that night? As Kakashi set out, with thoughts of duty taking front and center, the counsel elders and higher-ups—influential figures, congregated for a secret meeting to decide which shinobi would be most suited for the privilege and title of the Sixth Hokage.

The first name to fall from anyone's lips was none other than Hatake Kakashi.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi returns to Iruka before the Konoha Council make their intentions known at Tsunade's funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Incoming with a newly edited old chapter! Bwahahaha!

The Tree Leaf Honored Opinion Watch. Konoha's political elite.

 

Individuals who believed themselves the foundation of the nation took seat among a long marble table. The bulk of their number, twelve, were an average age of seventy, these elderly men and women who likened themselves to that of gods controlling the inner workings of humanity. If the greatly ambitious, the self-serving, or more undermining of their numbers took control, then their reign over Konoha would be swift and unrelenting. All consideration towards maintaining a republic, led by a Hokage, would be forgotten in pursuit of personal gain and absolute power.

Fortunately, the Konoha Council was facilitated and lead by only two individuals, one man and one woman, who truly felt they had only the Hidden Leaf's best interest in mind…

The two remaining limbs of Team Tobirama, Koharu Utatane and Homura Mitokado, took their appropriate seats at each end of the table, and everyone else quickly followed suit. Lady Utatane, with her graying hair pulled back into a respectable bun, lifted a graceful hand into the air. Such a subtle signal effectively settled all seats and silenced all small talk. Elder Mitokado moved his own hand as well, if only to readjust the thick-rimmed glasses below his brow.

"This meeting shall commence," Lady Utatane stated, her strong voice amplified. They were in a lower chamber, just below the Hokage tower. Almost another realm of existence, the chamber room never saw anyone other than the Hokage, the Interrogation Force, and the Konoha Council. Supported by cylinder beams of marble that reached a grand height and ended in a dome-shaped ceiling, the chamber room was considered a myth by civilians and even to some shinobi. But it was real, just as magnificent and marvelous as any Konoha structure above ground. One could count themselves lucky to never find themselves being lead into Konohagure's underground chamber, as the large, vacant room was utilized for only two reasons: meetings and executions.

When the whispers died down and the echoes grew too weak to bounce off the cavernous walls, Elder Mitokado stood to address his fellow peers. "There isn't a member here who isn't aware of why we called for this urgent meeting," he began, eyeing each side of the table. "The Godaime is dead, leaving Konoha in a state of peril."

This claim drove the group into a storm of grumbles and sour faces. "Enough!" Lady Utatane called, and the room receded into silence once more.

"Konohagakure is a grand nation, the foundation of the Land of Fire, and I will have served my purpose to the end before I live to suffer through its destruction."

"What are you talking about?" protested a rather portly member sporting two chins and two squints for eyes. "Konoha is stronger than ever!"

"I agree!" cried out a shrill voice. "We have seen the worst of it," she said shrewdly, "and, thanks to our endurance and our finest shinobi, we have come out stronger than ever!"

"Do not let our victory in war blind you with misplaced confidence," Elder Mitokado cut in. "Konoha still lies in a state of wreckage. Even our Hokage Monument, which has been a symbol of Konoha's strength for centuries, has been destroyed. We've sent out small numbers of shinobi to complete missions, due to our escalating need for manpower here at home. To save face, we continue to do so. The war began with our own and ended here, at our doorsteps. To rebuild ourselves," Elder Mitokado stated firmly, "we have shown our greatest weakness. Our pride."

Members of the council, who would have made a fuss otherwise, fell silent.

"We could manage this indignity, for however long it took to return to our former greatness, so long as other countries knew that a powerful leader was at the helm, guiding and protecrting the village."

"There is no such person, not anymore," said the fat man, emitting a lethally low chuckle. "Tsunade-sama was the last of the Legendary Three…there's no one in our village who can generate as much respect and admiration as she." He stood slowly, as though the weight of him threatened to topple him to the ground. "I propose we become a military government. Let's show that we are not weakened by threatening other countries with the brute force of our collective muscle and fighting strength. Let us show that we are willing to go to war before ever being blinded by diplomacy ever again."

"If Konoha wanted to become a military state, Hurasu, then Danzou would have been chosen as the Sandaime and not Hiruzen Sarutobi." Her gaze narrowed threateningly, as Lady Utatane readied herself to defend her fallen friend and former teammate, if need be.

The man called Hurasu shrugged. "Perhaps Konoha has turned over a new leaf."

"Turning Konoha into a military state is not an option," Elder Mitokado growled, finality in his tone. He stared Hurasu down with a cold glare, forcing the bigger man back into his chair. He addressed the council once more, "Members of this great council, what we need now is a new leader. The mourning of Lady Tsunade shall go on for weeks, but we cannot allow our sentiments to cloud our judgement. We need to elect an immediate replacement and not just anyone."

"And who would you suggest," Hurasu sneered. "You obviously have someone in mind; you wouldn't be so adamant, otherwise. Let me guess…it's that Kyuubi boy isn't it."  
"The one who saved us from the Infinite Tsukuyomi?" said the shrewd woman with the shrill voice.

"He might have saved us from Madara Uchiha, but he nearly brought out the complete destruction of Konoha because of that demon inside of him! Let's not also forget his connection to Sasuke Uchiha!" voiced another nameless member. Soon the table went up in a roaring chorus of complaints, until Lady Utatane pulled a leather switch from beneath her robes and proceeded to slap the table.

"Settle down! Quiet now…or we'll never get anything done," she said. The ten rowdy council members settled back into their seats. "Uzumaki Naruto is not the shinobi we have in mind," she said lowly.

"Is that so?"

Lady Utatane gave Hurasu the evil eye. "Shut up, you great blubbering swine." Hurasu obediently zipped his lips. "Uzumaki has certainly proven he is worthy of the title, yet the stigma that is brought on by his name does not help to elevate the village but, instead, promotes distrust. We cannot preside over a nation that does not trust their government. Furthermore, Uzumaki is too young and inexperienced and needs time to prove his capability to lead."

"Lady Utatane is right," Elder Mitokado agreed. "In the past, our opinions have not been entirely favorable of the boy. Still, we are not going to elect someone out of desperation, without considering the consequences of our actions," he paused, gauging his peers once more. "The shinobi I nominate to replace the Godaime as the Sixth Hokage is one that Lady Tsunade herself offered the position to, in the event of her retirement or passing. Hatake Kakashi."

“Hatake Kakashi?”

“THE Hatake Kakashi?”

"You mean, son of the White Fang?" Hurasu asked.

Elder Mitokado nodded, "The very same. He is a genius among his peers, having graduated the Academy at age five, made chunin at age six, and jonin at thirteen. He is former Anbu and is well versed in the responsibilities of leadership. He has seen all sides of war, is highly experienced, extremely capable, and is famously known throughout the ninja world as the Copy Nin. He is feared as greatly as he is admired and has played a pivotal role that helped Konoha defeat its enemies, in this war AND the last." Elder Mitokado stopped, only having to listen to the small impressed grumbles to know that the members of the Konoha Council were assuaged and convinced. "He is a child prodigy; a student of the Yandaime. He then studied under the legendary Jiraiya-sama, and served as Uzumaki Naruto's jonin mentor." Another collective sigh of approval emitted into the hollow chamber.

"…You mean that disheveled looking young man who walks around Konoha with his head stuck in Jiraiya-sama's filthy novels?"  
Elder Mitokado breathed a grave sigh. "He has his vices," he frowned.

"If I recall correctly, Tsunade-sama's alcoholism and gambling debt did nothing to skew her abilities as Hokage," Lady Utatane bit in.

"Hatake-san sounds like the young blood we need to rejuvenate the village," said one member. Another one agreed. Soon both sides of the table had nothing but positive things to say about the silver-headed jonin.

"I remember his father…he was a respectable man!" crooned their oldest member.

For a council that rarely thought for themselves and agreed on whatever plan of action made the least sense, Elder Mitokado had practically handed them a decision on a silver platter. Now the name Hatake fell from their lips as frequently as exhaled air, more often than Elder Mitokado could recall happening in decades. He recalled how many of the very same members in his presence persecuted Sakumo Hatake for disregarding shinobi protocol and shaming their village. Now, at the prospect of returning Konoha to its former glory, they all but bounced in their seats to promote his son to the position of Rokudaime.

"All in favor of electing Hatake Kakashi, son of Hatake Sakumo, as the Sixth Hokage, please stand." Everyone, with the exception of Hurasu, shot into the air, which was a bit disquieting, considering their frail and aging bodies.

Hurasu slowly sidled out of his seat. "Do whatever ya want. I do not care. I'm tired and I want to go home already."

"So do you agree that electing Hatake-san as our Sixth Hokage is the best course of action?"

"Yes!" Hurasu hissed, waddling away.

"It is decided then!" Lady Utatane announced. The council quickly dispersed, as each member was eager to return to well-furnished dens and roasting fires, in the comfort of their own compounds.

Elder Mitokado walked out, closely followed by Lady Utatane. An air of accomplishment followed their every step. It had been their plan, all along, to nominate Hatake-san as the Sixth Hokage. Before the war, however, Danzou's self-lead election named him Hokage, and the permanent impression he made among the other Kages at the Kage Summit was something of an embarrassment to both the village and the elders.

"We've done well by Sarutobi-san...and the Godaime," Lady Utatane said simply.

"Yes. We have," Elder Mitokado agreed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Iruka's apartment was just as warm as Kakashi remembered it being when he left. It was mind boggling to the jonin, who understood glaciated nights like this to turn his whole apartment into his own personal meat locker. He climbed in through Iruka's window this time, not to refrain from disturbing the chunin but, if Iruka had fallen asleep, Kakashi didn't want the younger man yelling at him until his ears jumped off and deserted him.

He found Iruka and Pakkun both sprawled out over the couch, just as he expected to. He assumed the chunin must have turned in shortly after he left, turning off all lights, while leaving a stump of a candle to burn on top of the coffee table. Their tea cups had been removed. A wool blanket draped itself over the man whose skin glowed golden brown beneath the scrutiny of a single orange flame.

Kakashi made his way towards the couch and scoffed at the pitiful sight before him. Iruka slept restlessly, as half the blanket dipped over the couch, revealing a limp arm and leg. Pakkun slept at the base of Iruka's neck, with his belly out and extending with every breath. The pug looked like a stuck pig, and he was snoring too. This did nothing to discourage Iruka's heavy slumber, as the man lightly drooled, a permanent grin of stupidity slapped across his face. From the position of his left arm, scrunched up against the inside of the couch, and the direction at which Pakkun slept, it was clear Iruka had belly rubbed Pakkun to sleep.

"You spoiled mutt."

"Wha-uh?" Pakkun instantly sprang to life, flipping over with little difficulty. He did find it troubling to balance on all fours, and finally managed to stand in the gap between Iruka's head and raised arm. It took little to no time whatsoever to identify his human. "I'll have you know I'm a purebred pug and not a mutt, thank you very much," he muttered out into the general direction of Kakashi's voice. One round eye popped open, followed by the other, both falling on the jonin.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Kakashi asked, in a biting tone, hovering over the couch.

"Very much so, yeah."

Kakashi shook his head. "You spoiled mutt," he sneered, repeating his earlier misconception.

Pakkun shrugged. "You told me to stay here, boss."

"I was trying to annoy you."

"Why would that annoy me?" Pakkun asked, immediately snuggling up against the nape of Iruka's neck. Kakashi watched as the chunin stirred, slowly shaking his head. Then he lay motionless once more. His hair flowed freely down his scalp, framing his face with limp locks of stray brown hair. The jonin took in the image, since it was a rare sight to see Iruka's hair down. He usually kept it in a ponytail. Kakashi figured it served the chunin well, to keep his neat, prim and proper image. Now, under the spell of sleep, the absence of a hair band took the strain away from Iruka's face. He appeared more relaxed when asleep than he ever did awake. There were no screeching, impish children running up and down classrooms with small sharp objects in their hands, no lawless jonin—him truly included—sauntering into the missions room with a cocky grin and a bad attitude, and no blur of orange blob, however loving, jumping over his shoulders with static energy. No... Kakashi imagined sleep was quite a peaceful element to Iruka's, otherwise, lively and restless days.

He thought he might like to know what dreams Iruka experienced to leave him so utterly open to an enemy attack. Kakashi, always, slept with a kunai beneath his pillow. Iruka slept with hair in his face and dribble down the corner of his lips.

"I know it's difficult for someone of your disposition to trust humanity, Kakashi," Pakkun circled around, finding that perfectly cushioned spot near Iruka's head to plop down on. With his eyelids more than halfway closed, he stared at the awake man.

"Even a dog knows that the company of another human is far better than some trashy novel." The pug lowered his head to rest on his two front paws.

Kakashi leaned forward, shoving his face into Pakkun's flat, smug one. "I think I fair just fine."

"As do I," Pakkun closed his eyes, "with food in my belly and Iruka in my charge."

"I was trying to bore you," Kakashi said abruptly.

"Why would Iruka bore me?" Pakkun grumbled.

Kakashi rolled his eye. "What could the two of you possibly talk about?"

"You two are awfully loud," mumbled a softer tone. Kakashi turned his gaze and met equally tired eyes. Iruka blinked until his eyes completely fluttered open. Kakashi didn't pull away, as he initially thought to, taking in the dark brown pools of Iruka's irises. From this distance, he could see the cleanliness of his scar, one even line that barely even marred the chunin's features. Iruka exhaled, pressing the warm air against the barrier of Kakashi's mask.

His shoulders relaxed, withering upon the couch.

"Kakashi-sensei?" he gasped, frazzled by their close proximity. Kakashi ignored the man's discomfort, noting how the man had fallen asleep in his blue shinobi attire. He pressed one of his hands against the back of the couch, leaning in just a bit closer. He was studying Iruka, he knew, examining the creamy tan skin evenly coating the younger man's body. It was flawless, or, seemingly so, since a hue of that shade could easily disguise a lot of scar tissue. But there was absolutely nothing ghastly about Iruka's skin, not even the smallest scrape caused by the smallest sharp object.

Pakkun lifted one flapping ear, watching Kakashi out of the corner of one drooping eye.

Iruka didn't even have the skin of a shinobi, just one inexplicable scar across his nose. Kakashi inwardly scoffed and pulled away. Iruka pushed against the couch to rest on his elbows. He looked past the jonin, ignoring him completely, to scan the empty living room.

"You should wear your hair down more often," Kakashi suddenly said when Iruka brushed a few strands of brown hair behind his ear.

Iruka shrugged. "It would get in my face if I did that," he sniffed lightly, "and I teach young children who wouldn't think twice about pulling it."

"Couldn't be that bad," Kakashi shrugged, his voice escaping at a low and even pitch. It was late, he thought to himself. It was late, dark, and warm, with the only source of light painting the room being a dark iron red now. Having spent all night being vigilant and alert, jumping off rooftops and tree branches, the stillness of Iruka's apartment calmed his overclocked nerves. He didn't feel the need to trace his steps and watch his back, not here. It was a paradox, the chunin and his place of residence, as Iruka himself slept defenselessly.

"It could get pretty bad, Kakashi-sensei," Iruka grinned, wiping his hand over his mouth.

"Afraid some brat might try and cut it off with a plastic kunai," Kakashi said jokingly.

Iruka was not equally amused, judging from the frown taking hold of his features. "I put my hair up, Kakashi-sensei, because it is the professional thing to do. A shinobi can't properly perform his duties when his hair is obscuring his vision. I thought a shinobi of your…disposition could appreciate that fact."

Warm brown eyes met cold grey.

"Okay," Kakashi stepped back, kneeling against the armrest at the other end of the couch.

Iruka sat up now, rubbing his eyes. His face fell when he scanned his living room again and, apparently, felt something was amiss. "Where are they?" he asked Kakashi. "Where are the dogs?"

"They're ninken," Kakashi corrected, turning his head. He quickly shoved his thumb and index finger into his mouth to produce one single solid whistle. The faintest rumble of roving paws could be heard before seven dogs appeared in a puff of smoke, standing in the middle of Iruka's living room. Bull sat at the front.

"I got 'em together, boss," he grouched out, before sauntering towards the couch. His brothers followed, all moving with quiet grace, accosting Iruka with tired tongue-hanging smiles and hopeful eyes. Iruka feigned a soft sigh, lifting his legs over the side of the couch. "What am I going to do with all of you," he moped playfully, welcoming each dog with a gentle pat on the head. "Are you hungry?"

Kakashi's ninken nodded their heads vigorously, like greedy beggars. He watched them circle around Iruka's feet and follow the younger man into the kitchen. Iruka flipped a light switch, and a pool of fur and blue shirts, all with the same emblem on their backs, stood attentive and waiting. Iruka moved about with a faint smile on his face, taking food from the stove and bowls from the cabinets, filling them, before setting them down on the floor.

"Thanks, Iruka-sensei!" Guruko piped up, licking the palm of Iruka's hand. He then shoved his face into his food.

"Phank kou, Uka-sensei," Shiba said, his mouth already stuffed. Iruka bent low and rubbed down fur coats bristled with trapped water. Iruka chuckled, but for what reason Kakashi couldn't fathom. There was nothing funny about a bunch of rambunctious, rain-drenched ninken. Every now and then one would shiver and shake, spraying Iruka with drops of water, and the chunin feeding them still went to pet them.

"Kakashi-sensei?" Kakashi jerked at the sound of Iruka's voice, unaware of having fixed his eyes on Iruka and his ninken. He was tired, that's all…much too tired. It was early morning now, somewhere between midnight and dawn. Kakashi hadn't slept for three days straight. He certainly didn't sleep the way Iruka did, as though nothing else mattered. He even failed to see how preparing oneself for a surprise attack constituted as nothing. He might have felt sorry for Pakkun, for leaving the pug here, if he didn't know him to be quite the proficient fighter. That must be why he told him to watch Iruka, because Iruka was too simpleminded to watch over himself.

"Mm?" Kakashi hummed, fighting off the preliminary tugs of sleep.

"I still have that pot of miso eggplant soup. Would you like me to heat that up for you?"

With unspoken gratitude, Kakashi downed two bowls of the miso eggplant soup Iruka had offered him earlier that evening. It tasted good, heavenly even, to the point where Kakashi wanted to savor it instead of gulping it down fast enough to replace his mask. With a blush Iruka excused himself, saying something about getting a few towels for the dogs, which was good because Kakashi really wanted to revel in the taste of every serving. He managed four bowls before Iruka returned with seven identical towels, stacked up and obscuring the younger man's face. He was glad Iruka couldn't see the indignity of it all, how he was practically beside himself with relief, beside his dogs eating as they did. A pair of chopsticks lay forgotten on the counter.

"Not bad," he uttered, putting his bowl in the sink. He walked away, when Iruka moved into the kitchen and stared between the empty bowl in the sink and the empty pot on the stove.

"I'm glad you liked it," he said, amused.

Kakashi scanned the room, searching with one eye. "Where are my clothes?"

"I washed your vest and shirt—they're in the bathroom. I hung them out to dry, so they wouldn't get mildew," was Iruka's simple response, as he bustled about the kitchen.

Kakashi crossed his arms. "What about my scrolls, my weapons?"

"There on top of the desk." Kakashi looked just to the side of Iruka's living room window, where he saw his gear spread out in categorical order. Packs of kunai, shurikens, and other various devices of death lay in neat rows, separate from scrolls and dispatches. Kakashi looked between the desk and the man that owned it, but Iruka had long since busied himself with cleaning up after the four-legged freeloaders on his kitchen floor. Repacking his vest made sense to Kakashi, until he remembered he wasn't wearing his clothes.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, trying to peel the tight piece of clothing from over his shoulders. He pulled from behind, with little success, before trying to take it off from over his arms simultaneously. Kakashi sighed again and changed his course of action, never believing a simple green vest could become his mortal enemy. He fumbled again, as the length of his arms out-approximated the length of the jacket, and his grip slipped. Before he knew it, Kakashi was turning in semi-circles, battling to pull off a simple piece of shinobi wear. All the while, Iruka stood with one hand on his waist, watching the tragic jonin with a smirk on his lips.

Kakashi heard the distant clatter of dishes under the pressure of running water, and was glad the chunin was too preoccupied to notice how he struggled. "They say the funeral is tomorrow." Iruka's voice reached over the sound of rushing water.

"I figured as much, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi grunted.

"The Elders say they have a final announcement to make when the ceremony is over." Iruka watched Kakashi intently, trying not to laugh at how the jonin chased his own tail, of sorts, to take off his vest. "Will you be there to hear it?"

"Why wouldn't I be, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka shrugged, putting the clean bowls on the rack. "Your penchant for being absent during momentous occasions is as legendary as yourself."

"Have you been checking my file, Iruka-sensei?"

"Never." Kakashi was close to completing his task, if he could call it that. Just when he thought he'd defeated his villainous foe, he found himself cursing his bad luck again. This was difficult, more difficult than it should have been. Perhaps it was because of his hands, hands that felt stricken with acute hypothermia. His fingerless gloves did nothing to provide a firm grip, neither did the subtle jerks of his wrists. The grooves beneath his short fingernails were packed with dirt, and the pads of his fingers had pruned long ago. His hands slipped, still wet, and fumbled with every aggressive tug. "Are you alright, Kakashi-sensei?"

"I'm just," Kakashi turned on his heel, mentally stunted to find Iruka staring up at him, "fine."

"You're going to rip the seams." Iruka frowned, shoving Kakashi's hands out of the way. Kakashi frowned as well, but found his arms too heavy to protest. They fell to his sides, like two concrete stones...like the rubble he and his fellow shinobi found themselves excavating through on a daily basis. When Iruka raised his hands, Kakashi flinched, causing the younger man to drop them. Iruka's movements were too quick for his liking. Kakashi furrowed his brow, staring him down in frustration. Iruka, to his credit, didn't back away. The pupils of his eyes were dilated, which meant the man was relaxed, undaunted by Kakashi's initial response to strike him down. "I'm not the enemy," he said.

"I know," Kakashi responded, with his fight or flight reflexes receding. "It's your damn vest." Iruka stepped forward, blushing faintly. He was always blushing, Kakashi noted…always. Maybe it was a disorder, he thought, or a skin condition. Despite the creamy dark hue of Iruka's skin tone, a recessive pigmentation trait caused rosacea around the nose and cheek areas.

Kakashi didn't normally stand this close to anyone, unless with the intent to kill. If this was a mission, or anyone else for that matter, Iruka's eyes would have long ago glazed over with pain, and Kakashi would be holding his sharpest kunai with a firm grip. Iruka would sputter, as the blood dribbled down the corner of his mouth, and Kakashi would be twisting his weapon deep into the man's gut, ever so slowly. All around them, a pitch black terrain. Only the dark outline of the forest trees, the dirt in the air, the dry blood on their clothes, and the dead in Iruka's eyes magnified amid the backdrop of a dawning horizon. "Allow me, Kakashi-sensei."

Kakashi blinked, returning to a present state of reality. Iruka's grip was feather light, tugging at the shoulders of the vest. To his complete and utter dismay, Kakashi let Iruka gently pull the garment down, with his arms bent and trailing down his back. He couldn't possibly be in his right mind, Kakashi thought, his eyes never leaving Iruka's gaze. He was tired, he'd established, and worn from his travels. He was underfed and physically drained by the wear and tear of his aborted mission. Had he been at the peak of his physical and mental capabilities, surely he would not allow Iruka anywhere near his person.

"See?" Iruka tilted his head, smiling. "Was that so difficult?"

"You weren't wearing it," Kakashi sighed and was glad Iruka couldn't see the small pout being shrouded by his mask. Holding on to whatever pride was left in his tired body, Kakashi crossed his arms and pulled at the hem of Iruka's sleeved shirt. It submitted to his aggressive man-handling, fearing that the jonin might rip it from his body in order to defeat it. Kakashi felt his muscles stretch and move in his efforts, and he was glad to find that his arms did indeed still work. He almost chuckled, immediately relieved by the strain off his shoulders.

"I doubt I'll be borrowing anymore of your clothes, Iruka-sensei, unless you prefer them stretched and torn," Kakashi mused, pulling the second piece of clothing over his head. "However, if it comes to it, you can certainly borrow mine."

"I don't think it'll ever come to that, Kakashi-sensei," Iruka muttered, diverting his gaze. Kakashi's brow furrowed, confused. He then noticed the way Iruka's eyes shifted from the center of his chest to the fire red Anbu tattoo on his arm.

"Maa…is there something wrong?" Kakashi pressed.

Iruka looked him straight in the eye, fearless. "I shouldn't have seen that, not now or before," he explained, and Kakashi knew what 'that' meant. "It's against the law. I don't have the clearance or the status, and I'm not a family member. I can be persecuted for knowing who you are as a member of Anbu."

"I hardly think it matters," Kakashi shrugged. "Haven't been on a special op mission in some time."

"Once an Anbu always an Anbu, Kakashi-sensei.”

Tell that to Hiruzen, Kakashi thought bitterly. The courage to voice these words failed him now, however, as Iruka looked on with a somewhat critical stare, stern and unrelenting, like the feeling of personal failure Kakashi endured whenever talk of Anbu brought forth the mere memory of his former squadron, Team Ro.

"Mm…you worry too much, Iruka-sensei."

"So I've been told," the Academy teacher replied through gritted teeth. Kakashi smiled cheekily, with his one visible eye.

"Are my clothes dry?"

Iruka stepped away. "I can go check."

"Don't bother," Kakashi grumbled. He stepped towards the desk again, counting his many well-kept possessions when he noticed a rather unconventional orange, paperback work of literature had gone missing among his items. As with any sudden absence of a loved possession, Kakashi padded himself down, expecting one of Jiraiya's finest works to suddenly appear on his person. "Where…?"

"Is something wrong, Kakashi-sensei?" The jonin looked back, his face stone serious.

"Where's my book?"

Iruka's eyes grew wide, an innocent smile on his face. "You mean that dog-eared piece of filth so completely soaked through that even the most detailed parts were running off the page?"

"Yeah—that one."

"I threw it out," Iruka answered softly.

"You what?" Kakashi advanced on the man, as if he'd just admitted to murdering young children. He was so angry, he didn't know what to do with himself, so when he came down on Iruka with what little rage he could muster, he found his hands unceremoniously clenching and un-clenching in front of him. "Why would you do that?"

"Keep your voice down," Iruka whispered, and Kakashi obeyed, like a tired dog. Iruka glanced behind him, to the couch, where Kakashi's ninken had long ago fallen into a hard, lethargic snooze. Bull had taken up residence at the end closest to the two men, with his brothers draped around him in various and rather impressive positions. Pakkun was sleeping on his back again. "If you thought for a second I'd be obligated to look after that nonsense you call literature and not toss it with the rest of the trash, then you gravely underestimate my convictions. Not even you, Kakashi-sensei, valiant Copy-nin and perfect shinobi, will get away with leaving dirt like that in my home and expect to get it back!"

"That was an autographed copy, given to me by Jiraiya himself."

Kakashi put on his most solemn face, watching even the faint red in Iruka's face quickly drain away. The remorse in his eyes was so sudden that Kakashi felt a pang of guilt that he immediately ignored. Iruka gaped, a heartfelt apology on the tip of his tongue, when he noticed that intentional gleam in Kakashi's steely glare.

"No he didn't," Iruka sneered. The chunin's regret dissipated as his anger flared. "I can't believe you would evoke Jiraiya-sama's name just to make me feel bad!"

"Now, now, Iruka-sensei, be mindful of your tone. You don't want to wake up my ninken…"

"You…!" Iruka came at him, his face a masterpiece of rage. Kakashi knew that face very well… It was time to go.

"Well, I think I've outstayed my welcome." Kakashi smiled, scratching the back of his head as he backed away. "I'm going to do some back-up surveillance; you know, for further security reasons…"

"You're not wearing the proper clothes!" Iruka hissed.

"The storm has ended, Iruka-sensei—it shouldn't matter much.”

Kakashi hopped on the ledge of Iruka's living room window, and Iruka couldn't do much but continue to advance on him with a troubled sigh. That's all Iruka could do, really. The chunin was quick-tempered and an emotional rollercoaster, but his anger never stopped Kakashi from doing whatever he wanted to do and, for Kakashi, he liked doing whatever Iruka didn't like. He didn't need Naruto as a buffer between safety and Iruka's wrath because, ironically enough, he was already safe. What could Iruka, who not knowing what to do with his anger resigned himself to fidgety movements and angry huffs, really do to someone of Kakashi's capability? That's why he let the Academy sensei get away with actions other people wouldn't dare to even attempt.

Kakashi was not a people person, he knew that, and the world of shinobi was everything to him. Nights spent in the homes of other people were rare to nonexistent. Yet there was something about Iruka…

Iruka was different. Iruka was safe. Why? He couldn't begin to comprehend.

"What about your dogs?"

"You keep them. Doesn't look like they're going anywhere, anytime soon. Wouldn't you agree, Iruka-sensei?"

 

Kakashi left, as a groan of disapproval escaped Iruka's lips, leaping to the top of the chunin's roof. He wasn't really leaving for surveillance purposes, not when every block of the village had been checked a rechecked by every other available shinobi. He leaned over one knee, allowing his other leg to stretch out over the flattop roof. Kakashi stared out towards the sky, waiting for that hour where the sun would rise, but he doubted he would see it. Though the storm had passed over, the clouds remained, daunting and ominous. Slowly, he let his head hang low and closed his eyes, focusing in on the chakra moving beneath him. His mind was intent on following it, until the chunin once again surrendered to sleep. Kakashi thought that was the end of it, until eight chakras, with similar signatures to his own, migrated from Iruka's living room to Iruka's bedroom.

Now everything was quiet, in every sense of the word. His ninken were fed and resting, the village was safe, well, as safe as it could be now. The chunin below him, tormented only by the loss of a leader, slept peacefully. For now, the village was secure. Everything and everyone had been taken care of.

Kakashi breathed deep into the night, suppressing the urge to whimper. He was hurting, badly, mentally and physically. The pain of a shinobi was entirely different from that of civilians. It was profound and as everlasting as the scar tissue on their backs. For Kakashi, who felt he'd been a shinobi since birth, it was becoming more and more difficult to distinguish the thin line between duty and his everyday life. His mind and body were out of sync, unable to return from the fight. Even now, Kakashi's body sat confused and in search of the battle cry while his mind searched for tranquility, in some place secluded. Inside Iruka's apartment was not the place to clear his mind. His thoughts went into overdrive whenever he came anywhere near Iruka, for reasons that had nothing to do with the hang-ups of shinobi life.

Even now, during Tsunade-sama's funeral service, Kakashi couldn't stop thinking about the man standing beside him. Iruka was the epitome of grief, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his funeral robes. His gaze remained downcast, no doubt thinking of all the moments he shared with Lady Tsunade. The rows of mourners were thinning as each one, starting from the back, came forward to pay their respects. Shizune, with Tonton in her arms, stood steady beside the vigil, where white lily petals, bouquets, and small candles adorned a single framed picture of the Godaime's smiling face.

Shizune had made a rather inspiring speech at the beginning of the service, a eulogy that moved many of the attending to silent tears. "Shizune must have really loved Tsunade-sama," Iruka whispered to him.

Kakashi hummed in agreement. Despite being the closest to Tsunade, her caretaker and friend, Shizune showed no tears and neither did Tonton. They remained strong for their Hokage, throughout the entire ceremony.

"Where is Naruto?" Iruka asked, having spent the rest of the service searching the throng of villagers for that familiar blonde with the bright blue eyes and garish grin.

Kakashi thought long and hard, slightly unnerved by the worry burdened to Iruka. He began with his usual manner, "Maa…I don't remember seeing him earlier." He glanced down the right side of his row, where what used to be Team 7, Kurenai, Gai, a few chunins, and the rest of the rookie nine stood. He opted to ask Sakura but quickly disregarded the idea, unable to tear the young kunoichi from her mourning. "I didn't see him at the Memorial Stone, this morning."

"So that's why you were late," Iruka breathed. The air went still, and Kakashi looked up in time to see a flash of lightning dance over a blanket of heavy gray clouds. "He must be…"

"Don't say it."

"I wasn't going to," Iruka shot back, quietly. Kakashi could feel the younger man's eyes burning holes into the completely covered side of his face. "But he must be," Iruka turned away. Finally, their row: an assortment of elite shinobi, Elders, and close friends, stepped forward. It was split down the middle, between Iruka and Kakashi, to where the two men were separated during the proceedings. Kakashi stood by Iruka's side, the first two of their line to stand before Tsunade's vigil.

"…Do you mind if I tell you something, Kakashi-sensei?" Iruka asked sadly.

Kakashi didn't have the heart to turn a deaf ear. "Go on."

Iruka exhaled, slowly. "When Sarutobi died, I was frightened and angry. I wasn't willing to believe that he had passed on, that he'd given his life to protect the village, and I wasn't ready to accept any other person to take his place. Then Tsunade-sama came along and I panicked. Even Naruto had accepted her, but, for whatever reason, I saw her as a threat to Sarutobi's memory. I missed him. He treated me like a son and acted like the father I had lost long ago."

Iruka grazed a tan hand over the lily petals, mindlessly.

Kakashi listened, intently, fixated on the movement of Iruka's fingers. "What made you change your mind about her, Iruka-sensei?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Tsunade-sama did," Iruka said with a sad smile. "She was amazing in her own right, kind and understanding."

"Kind? She was kind?" Kakashi scoffed, recalling a particularly vivid memory where Tsunade had thrown a liquor bottle at his head. "I don't recall her ever being kind, Iruka-sensei."

"Maybe not to you," Iruka grumbled. "Tsunade-sama got along well with almost every other shinobi but always complained that you were nothing but a stubborn ass."

"People tend to complain about the things they don't like about themselves," Kakashi explained.

"No…you gave her migraines, you and Naruto both." Kakashi paid his silent respects, before the two of them walked on in opposite directions. He thought about what Iruka said, reminded of his own first impressions of Tsunade. Used to death, Sarutobi's passing left him numb but, otherwise, unresponsive. Kakashi had no qualms with Tsunade becoming Hokage, knowing her to be one of the great Legendary Three. Personally, he hadn't known her at all, so he felt no reason to dislike her. Kakashi only disliked people he couldn't trust.

They returned to their one solid row, where Kakashi saw Iruka briefly, before being forced to stare front and center.

"Are you alright?" Iruka asked, a question Kakashi never expected Iruka to ask him, though it fit well into the younger man's nature. He was going to respond with whatever fell out of his mouth first until a frail, higher-pitched voice beat him to the punch.

"I don't know," the voice said, sniffling, coming from Iruka's other side. Not that the boy sounded like the sobbing pre-genin he once used to be, Kakashi tilted forward to see that Konohamaru and his friends still stood on his side of the front row...so it wasn't him. "I don't like funerals," the unidentified voice whimpered.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Iruka asked in a tone more soft and gentle than Kakashi had ever heard it to be.

"No." Iruka knelt down, bringing a smaller, willing body into a tight hug. Kakashi then saw the small boy that owned the even smaller voice. He was sun-kissed, just a few shades lighter than Iruka, with different shades of silver hair shooting out in every direction. He wore his Konoha headband loose around the base of his neck, with the sleeves of his funeral robes rolled up to his shoulders. He was scrawny, Kakashi noted, watching the boy wrap his bare arms around Iruka's neck. His eyes were clenched shut. When they snapped open, Kakashi was accosted with what could only be described as unadulterated rage.

"May we end this ceremony with a few moments of silence," announced Elder Mitokado, who now stood before Tsunade's vigil. "Please, let us bow our heads."

Kakashi, along with the whole of Konohagakure, bowed his head, ignoring the bemusement brought on by the nameless boy's glare. Last time he checked, Kakashi didn't know any hell-raising looking brats with hazel eyes and wild silver hair. When he opened his eyes, Iruka was standing upright again, emotion plaguing his face.

"I believe the Godaime would have been proud to see her loyal village all in attendance," Elder Mitokado continued in a boisterous voice, reminding Kakashi that a certain blonde was still missing. "Though we shall mourn, we should also consider the future and the hope that Lady Tsunade placed upon all of Konoha. For she, like the rest of us, committed herself to the prosperity of the village. Let us not now abandon our strength, in her absence, as the Godaime would insist we move forward. That is why, for the sake of the Hidden Leaf, for the sake of Tsunade-hime's vision, I take this moment to announce the Godaime's successor: Konohagakure's Sixth Hokage."

Elder Mitokado's words traveled like wildfire, spreading throughout the crowd causing confusion, excitement, and surprise. The murmuring began, much to Kakashi's distaste. He wasn't the least bit surprised and was confused even less, understanding the dire urgency of naming one among their number as their new leader. Rumors of the Godaime's demise would, eventually, spread throughout The Five Great Shinobi Countries, and such news would be taken as, 'the Hidden Leaf has fallen into a state of vulnerability…let's attack it'.

"Well that's not surprising," Kakashi murmured, in light of the various murmurs spreading around him like the common cold.

"I agree," Iruka stated firmly, earning a raised brow from the silver headed jonin.

"People of Konohagakure, I hereby pronounce Hatake Kakashi as our Sixth Hokage!"

Kakashi never knew his throat gulping to make a sound, until that instant. He felt the eyes of hundreds pour down upon him, to where he could have gone blind and it wouldn't have made a difference. His hands in his pockets, the hunch of his shoulders, the way his headband drooped over his left eye, and how his hair shot to the heavens…he thought of himself and everything about him that everyone else could see. Kakashi's mouth gaped behind his mask. The formally re-implanted Sharingan in his left eye socket spun wildly, while his right eye extended to a size he never thought possible.

"Don't worry, Kakashi-sensei," Iruka whispered, subduing a grin with little success. "You don't look half as surprised as you probably feel."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed! ^_^


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi shares in the aftermath of his swearing in ceremony as Hokage with Yamato, Shizune, and his ninken. Oh, and Tonton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Posting in a bit late tonight/today (depending on where you live). Of course, spent the day with my family for Father's Day, so, it couldn't be helped. ^_^ Enjoy!

The inauguration ceremony was quick and short-lived.

Elder Mitokado made an official announcement, on the Hokage balcony, where Kakashi then faced with the whole village. Forced by the elders and flanked by his fellow peers, he greeted the somber crowd in what could be considered a state of shock. He remembered bits and pieces, flashes of surprise stricken faces and solemn stares. A few hours ago saw these very same villagers saying their farewells to a beloved leader, and now Kakashi could see them, too, staring up at him with eyes of unfathomable sadness.

Usually, Konohagakure congratulated their newly appointed Hokage with boisterous cheering. Kakashi grimaced, because his own sensei's inauguration wasn't nearly as subdued. He'd never seen all of Konoha so silent, so still. The moment felt stretched over, like a long strand of existence that he would have liked nothing more than to rip from the space time continuum.

He knew he should have jutsued to safety when the elders insisted he couldn't be Hokage and wear a mask. Not that he wanted to be Hokage…and the elders eventually relented, disapprovingly, and that the jonin could live with, but he couldn't live with all those eyes watching him, expecting…something from him. Was it a speech, like the one Lady Utatane force-fed him before the ceremony? He never even got around to giving it.

Kakashi no longer donned the funeral robes of a mourner, now wearing a navy-green vest and a navy-blue shirt with the Konoha emblem engraved on each sleeve. He was any other shinobi, like the many who changed back into their uniforms as part of an effort to move on with their daily routine. Kakashi wore similar pants, similar wrappings, and sandals littered with various flavors of dry mud. Only the way his headband drooped over his left eye, and the custom-made gloves on his hands, singled him out as Hatake Kakashi.

He looked nothing, however, like a Hokage.

Therefore, he deduced, he didn't have to sound like one.

So he forgot the speech, waved politely, and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

 

* * *

 

"All along, it was a clone?" Yamato asked, thoroughly amused with his senpai's deviousness.

"I don't do speeches," Kakashi explained.

The two sat opposite each another, lounged out over two waiting benches in the missions room. Yamato turned his head, his almond-shaped eyes thoughtfully gazing into the recently promoted jonin. He stated slowly, "You ditched your own ceremony, undetected, while surrounded by elite jonin."

"Maa…ditching would require me having actually been there."

"You're impressive, Kakashi-senpai."

"That must be why I'm Hokage," he frowned, having spent a good portion of the day searching for the ultimate reason. He heard Yamato's low melodious chuckle, the inevitable response towards many of his more reckless indiscretions, and settled back against the bench. Kakashi pocketed his hands and stretched, slowly inhaling and exhaling the stiff scent of paper and the strong stench of black ink with a terribly concealed yawn. The aroma was forever embedded into the room, having seeped into the faded blue paint on the walls. The room itself, however, was relatively clean. Discarded pieces of badly written reports had been picked up off the floor, the long front desk wiped clean, the bookshelves reordered in orderly fashion, properly stacked, and the bulletin board hanging on the wall notice-free. And though none of his observations interested Kakashi in the least bit, it did say a lot about whoever sat through the indignity of having to work the very last shift.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say, when the elders catch up with you?" Yamato asked.

"If they catch up with me…"

"You're going to need an apology, and a good one at that."

"Maa…I guess my not being there didn't fit very well into your plans. My bad. Next time, I'll be the better person and give you a head's up." Kakashi swung his long limbs over the bench, pressing his sandals into the hardwood floor. "How does that sound?" he drawled, hunched over himself.

Yamato raised a hand, swatting his senpai's bad idea into the atmosphere. "You may need to work on your apology a bit more, Kakashi-senpai."

"How did everyone take it?" Kakashi sighed, not really all that interested.

Yamato sat up, leaning into the back of his seat. "A lot of people could have identified the difference between yourself and a clone, but I don't think anyone thought you wouldn't show up to your own Hokage ceremony."

"I thought you, of all people, would figure it out, eventually," Kakashi shrugged.

"I didn't think you wouldn't show up to your own Hokage ceremony!" Yamato exclaimed, eyes widening. "With all due respect, Kakashi-senpai, who does that?"

"This wasn't my ceremony.”

Yamato relented with a heavy sigh. "Well, in any case, your little stunt scared the village. People were shouting sabotage, until Elder Mitokado explained how eager you were to perform your new duties."

"Of course, because that sounds reassuring. What new duties am I currently rushing off to resolve?"

"Then Gai-sensei stormed the balcony, with tears in his eyes, might I add, and professed defeat in light of such a crafty eternal rival."

"He's a bit melodramatic," Kakashi winced, combing through silver strands of hair. In his mind's eye, he saw Gai towering over the village, clad in green spandex, with tears in his eyes and a hideous song in his voice. The jonin recalled him being one of the many highly capable shinobi standing on that balcony, all of whom could have easily detected his jutsu. Others there included many people Kakashi felt himself fairly well acquainted with: Mitarashi Anko, Yuhi Kurenai, Shiranui Genma, Namiashi Raido, Yamashiro Aoba, and Morino Ibiki. According to Yamato, Kakashi dumbfounded them all with his absence, causing the silver haired jonin to reflect on the significance of their astonishment.

As their newly appointed leader, what were the expectations? Maybe misguided by his unwavering loyalty to Konoha, his fellow shinobi believed he would feel a sense of duty to the Hokage title, when just the opposite had taken hold of the Copy Nin. He fought off his skepticism and won, but allowed his lingering dissatisfaction to dictate his rather rash and, apparently, unexpected response.

Kakashi considered himself an extraordinary shinobi with little interest in leadership, so what constituted as an expectant response, especially towards an impromptu ceremony just after his predecessor's death? The elders, of whom he did not trust at all, tried to string him along like a puppet. Clone-Kakashi walked where they wanted him to walk and stopped where they wanted him to stop. They awarded him tight-lipped smiles. They tightened their hold and pulled him onto that balcony. Then the elders loosened the leash and pushed him forward, where a manipulative little speech was expected to alleviate the anguish of the entire Hidden Leaf. With his only option a feat of near impossibility, clone-Kakashi fell back on his fight or flight instincts and fled to freedom.

"I think Sakura and Sai understood." Yamato's overly objective tone fought its way into Kakashi's thoughts. "They said they weren't surprised."

"Did they know?" Kakashi raised an eyebrow.

Yamato shook his head, deflating Kakashi's sudden interest. "No, but they weren't surprised when it turned out to be a clone. They never thought you'd agree with the elders' decision. Sai said he found it all rather entertaining."

"I'm glad someone did," Kakashi said.

The jonin sunk even further into his seat, languishing in the newly found information. His gaze settled on Yamato, a man he considered a close friend. Kakashi watched his fellow jonin fiddle with the metal frame around his face and remembered him saying something about an apology that he thought little of then as he did now. No rules had been broken, and no orders had been disregarded. He was an accomplished jonin, with a success rate higher than most solo mission shinobi. He demanded to be left alone, as his only reward, to read his Icha Icha series to his heart's content and pursue other non-shinobi related interests… Then, without notice, some bureaucratic order decided to unravel Kakashi's rather carefully coiled routine. So he would not apologize, not for anything, not for being a creature of habit. It was, perhaps, a character trait the elders should have considered before pulling his name from the raffle drum.

"Did anyone else have anything to say?"

Yamato's brow lifted into his hairline. "Did you have someone in mind, Kakashi-senpai?"

"No," Kakashi lied. He scanned the missions room and settled his eye on the bookshelf against the wall, where volumes were shelved by height and chronological order. He smiled hatefully, cursing his bad luck, as the last helpless sap on shift duty came to mind. The day was repeating itself, if he was thinking about Iruka again. In light of everything else, a simple irrelevant chunin kept invading his thoughts. Kakashi even thought of Iruka's reaction when he saw, as others would see, him disappear in a cloud of smoke. Imagining Iruka's face pinched with pure rage, flushed blood red, with a fire in his normally docile eyes, and a poignant scowl on his face, only made Kakashi want to go through with his plan even more.

Yamato stared at Kakashi, long and hard, where he noticed the faintest hint of a smile behind his senpai's mask. Quite sure that his new Hokage was not even aware of this ongoing phenomenon, where Kakashi would smile for no apparent reason, intrigued him a great deal. Still, the reason baffled him, as Kakashi was a mysterious man with questionable motives. The reason for his senpai's smiles could be quite sinister, like when the silver haired jonin would confess another plan to torment Iruka-sensei. Those smiles manifested just as this one did. Broad, genuine, and seemingly unnoticed. It was the kind of smile that never reached his eye and, for his senpai, that was the truest kind.

"I ran into Iruka-sensei, after the ceremony." Yamato mentioned, oddly not surprised by Kakashi's wide-eyes stare.  
"What did he say?" Kakashi asked, his subtle smile slipping slowly.

Yamato shrugged. "He was upset, but he wasn't angry. Maybe next time, Kakashi-senpai," Yamato chuckled, thinking of how captivated his senpai was with pushing Iruka-sensei's buttons. Kakashi shrugged, unfazed by this. Perhaps Iruka-sensei was not the person Kakashi had in mind.

"Maa...did he look surprised?" Kakashi pressed, simultaneously shocking and not shocking the other man.

"Ah, not that I could see. He seemed annoyed, though..."

"Did he blush?" Now Yamato sat utterly speechless, noting the persistent rise in Kakashi's tone. His former Anbu leader was interested and engaged, when discussing the Academy teacher. Even more bewildering was the unanswered question floating in the air. He was confused as to why Kakashi would want to know if Iruka-sensei blushed or not.

"What?"

"Did he blush?" Kakashi repeated, elaborating, "Did his face go red around his cheeks and nose...it happens a lot with him. He's always blushing. I say something inappropriate, he blushes. I do something to anger him, and he blushes. He takes care of my ninken…and he still blushes. I think it's a skin condition..." Kakashi trailed off, his thoughts deepening.

"You want to know if Iruka-sensei was blushing, after the ceremony." Yamato blinked.

Kakashi nodded, firmly so.

"No, Kakashi-senpai," Yamato shook his head, timidly. "Iruka-sensei was not blushing, after the ceremony."

"Mm..." Kakashi leaned back, rubbing his chin softly between his thumb and index finger. There was a gleam in his one visible eye, Yamato noticed, something entirely foreign to who he knew the man to be. It stood out among all of Kakashi's distinguishable traits, even overriding his overly confident demeanor. He'd seen such focus on Kakashi's face, many times during missions, but never thought mentioning Iruka-sensei would bring about that same amount of consideration.  
Then it occurred to him what Kakashi actually said, so he asked, "He-he takes care of your ninken?"

Kakashi shrugged, his gaze drifting away.

"Whenever I come over," he nodded. "Maa… they're my warriors, but Iruka-sensei treats them like infants. I think they like him more than me," Kakashi frowned, "and if he keeps feeding them like he did last night, I may not have a hound team anymore."

Then the jonin slowly smiled. Yamato gawked, because Kakashi never let anyone tend to his ninken, for fear of another person jeopardizing his elite hound team. Then again, the man did think very little of Iruka-sensei's capabilities. Perhaps he considered it the safest option.

"How often do you visit his place?" Yamato asked, a little more than interested in this unspoken development.

"Every so often. He's makes good tea," Kakashi answered. "I was on a mission when I received the news of Tsunade's demise. I wanted to make sure Naruto wouldn't take her death as hard as he'd taken Jiraiya's. I found him at Iruka's. That's where I usually find Naruto."

It was such a simple explanation but, for Kakashi, it was a milestone in human to human interaction. Yamato knew his senpai for his pettiness and passive pursuits to torment the chunin, but he never believed him so cruel as to inconvenience Iruka in his own home.

"Kakashi-senpai..." Yamato could feel his head shaking to the point of headache. No, he thought, his senpai would never be so cruel as to belittle Iruka in his own home as he managed to everywhere else. From what interactions Yamato had witnessed between the two, they were never really friendly. It was a sport, for Kakashi, to patronize the chunin for his own entertainment, and Yamato couldn't honestly believe Iruka so naive to Kakashi's games that he couldn't tell the difference between friendly barbs and the many hostile exchanges shared with his somewhat heartless senpai.

"Mm?" Kakashi responded, his mind seemingly somewhere else. Yamato struggled to keep his thoughts to himself. Truthfully, he found Kakashi's insistent need to prove his superiority over the Academy teacher a bit tasteless. He never found it as amusing as the many jonin standing nearby, filling the missions room with their snickers and blatant laughter. He couldn't brush it off as Kakashi being Kakashi, as Genma-san and Gai-sensei so often did. Kakashi would never put his attention on someone he didn't care about, but he treated Iruka in ways a friend never would. His senpai was obsessed with tormenting Umino Iruka.

"He must really like your ninken," Yamato figured, or Iruka's affection for Naruto ran so deep as to tolerate his jonin mentor. Or maybe Iruka-sensei himself was so unbelievably forgiving and kind enough to welcome even the cockiest of jonins into his home. "Given he takes care of them, Kakashi-senpai..."

"Does he like me, too?" Kakashi drawled. "He wouldn't let me leave in wet clothes, so he lent me his."

"Th-that was very kind of him, Kakashi-senpai."

Kakashi shrugged, dismissively.

"It's nothing," he waved off. "That's just how Iruka-sensei is. He's a worrier. He worries about Naruto a lot, even when everyone knows Naruto can take care of himself. Besides, there's not much Iruka-sensei can do anyway, can he?" Kakashi mused.

"Maybe Iruka-sensei protects the people he cares about in the best way he knows how," Yamato frowned. Kakashi hummed, allowing an air of boredom to take over his demeanor. Irrational annoyance filled Yamato, on Iruka-sensei's behalf. He didn't know the chunin very well, but he knew the man to be friendly enough and caring enough to not disregard his feelings so carelessly.

"By cleaning clothes and feeding ninken?" the Copy Nin drawled.

"He actually fed them…?"

"Just ask them yourself." Kakashi bit into his calloused thumb, reopening the sizable wound to summon his ninken. There, where the palm of his hand pressed into the hardwood floor, materialized eight dogs all perched, alert, and waiting for action.

"What's up, boss?" Pakkun asked, hanging from Bull's head.

Kakashi motioned towards Yamato. "Tell him how you pampered pups spent the night cuddling up to Iruka-sensei," he scowled. Eight pairs of ears perked up, framing eight identically toothy grins all blinding Yamato with their shine.

"Gladly," Pakkun said.

"Iruka-sensei is warm," Bull hummed.

"He's nice too!" Guruko yelped happily.

"Iruka-sensei is loving," Akino stated softly. He turned his narrow nose, pointedly glaring at Kakashi from behind his round sunglasses.

"Maa, I'm loving," Kakashi said, shoulders slumping.

"You overwork us!" Urushi spat with wild angry eyes. "I never hear the words "scouting" or "mission" when we're with Iruka-sensei."

"He likes to play games with us and treats us with equal attention," Uhei said reasonably. "How come you don't play games with us anymore?"

"You're not pups anymore," Kakashi responded, defensively.

"Even old dogs like to play," Bisuke said sadly, his face drooping. "We may be ninken, but it's nice to be cared for, every now and then."

Yamato watched the rise and fall of Kakashi's shoulders, the other man troubled by the sad pout on his ninken's face. Kakashi cared very little about the opinions of others, but he did care about his ninken and how they viewed him. "You'll all be happy about your new living arrangements, then."

"What do ya mean, boss?" Bull asked.

Kakashi wiped his thumb, leaving an even darker trail against his dark blue pants. "Your days of being summoned are over."

Pakkun hopped off the top of Bull's head to lightly scrape at Kakashi's toes. "What are you saying?" he asked.

"I'm Hokage now, so the lot of you can run free and go...play."

Their reaction evolved at such a slow pace that Yamato feared he might have fallen into a jutsu of sorts, where time froze all the energetic tails flapping against the floor. One moment, eight dogs sat on their hind legs, each with various expressions of disbelief on their face, and, the very next, their numbers began prancing towards the exit.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Where do ya think, boss?" Bull called over their retreating pack. "You said we were free. We're going to Iruka-sensei's place."

"I didn't mean you were free from me," Kakashi whined. Yamato chuckled, hesitantly, watching a blurred version of Kakashi flash across the room to the exit. Then the new Hokage glared at his ninken, the hurt in his one visible eye nearly making him human.

"We knew you loved us," Guruko raced around Kakashi's feet.

"We knew you couldn't let us go," Uhei added, brushing his bandaged neck against his human's calf. Kakashi sulked while his ninken danced around his legs. They were appreciative and loyal to Kakashi. True, the man was never the most lenient or understanding of team leaders—Yamato knew this all too well, but he cared for anyone, man or creature, who charged into danger with him. He could only imagine how many fights, battles, and wars Kakashi and his ninken shared together, but enough for Yamato to know that the bond they shared was strong. Pakkun, Bull, Uhei, Guruko, Shiba, Bisuke, Urushi, and Akino were as much loved ones to Kakashi as any ninken could be to an emotionally stunted shinobi.

And, strangely enough, his senpai's ninken seemed equally loyal to Iruka-sensei. They adored the man, an easy enough feat, he reasoned. Iruka-sensei was terribly humble, thoughtful... Yamato recalled his stint as Team 7's leader and, whenever they returned from particularly grueling missions, Iruka-sensei always showed up ready and willing to treat every one of their tired bodies to a bowl at Ichiraku's. Iruka-sensei was all smiles and praise, and always welcomed them into his home with tea at the ready.

He was a charming and, not just loving, but appealing man, too. Yamato could easily admit to the man's attractiveness, physically and mentally, and believed Iruka incapable of any wrong-doing. Then again, as the jonin had so quickly learned, the other man could conjure up a temper like no other, and could easily become quite the challenging foe. A feisty and passionate chunin, Yamato didn't doubt for one moment Iruka's ability to retaliate with devastating pranks. His legendary abilities remained the sole reason he always made sure to stay on the chunin's good side.

Yamato shook away his trailing thoughts. Kakashi still stood by the door, barricading it from the ninken nipping at his feet, and Yamato remembered why his thoughts had drifted to Iruka. Not that the Academy teacher didn't often come to mind, these days...

He sighed, sidetracked again. When and how Kakashi's ninken became so enamored with Iruka, Yamato didn't know, but they apparently appreciated the chunin in ways their human didn't.

"Move, before I step on you," Kakashi playfully threatened. The silver haired jonin sat back down on the bench, with his ninken following closely behind him.

"So you're Hokage now, eh?" Pakkun jumped onto the bench, sitting beside his master. His brothers sat all around Kakashi, as his doting audience.

"Mm," Kakashi hummed, which the ninken understood as a 'yes'.

"When's the ceremony, boss?" Bull asked.

Kakashi shrugged, "It already happened."

"What?"

"We missed it?" Guruko whined. "Why weren't we invited?"

"How come you didn't let us go?" Pakkun asked, equally upset, even if his tone and manner resembled the lanky man sitting beside him.

"Now, now," Kakashi said, in a lackluster attempt to console.

"If it makes you feel any better, I didn't go either."

"What do ya mean ya didn't go?" Urushi scolded. "How do you not go to your own ceremony?" Before Kakashi could begin his explanation, perhaps a fabricated tale Yamato would have rather enjoyed, a persistent knocking sounded on the door. Yamato, Kakashi, and his ninken fell silent, all watching someone's dark outline through the small, foggy window on the door.

"Maa, it's open," Kakashi called over his shoulder, no longer interested with who it may be. The door swung open, revealing a rather accomplished looking Shizune. She stepped into the room and Tonton, stationed at her heels, shut the door with one piggy leg.

"We've finally found him, Tonton," Shizune shared a brief grin with the piglet, "the man of the hour."

"You rang?" Kakashi turned his head, acknowledging the kunoichi with a dulled eye. He then noticed the plain white box being carried in her hands and grew mildly curious of its contents. He noted the expression on Shizune's face: accomplishment and annoyance wrapped into one. He smiled hellishly. "How did you find me?"

"I had Tonton track your scent," she replied, examining the room. "Of course, hiding out in the missions room when missions are canceled for the ceremony and Tsunade-sama's funeral. To think, I thought you didn't show up to pursue more noble activities, like finding Naruto-kun," Shizune breathed, still evidently irritated. "I noticed he didn't show up for the funeral or the ceremony."

"Yes, Kakashi-senpai," Yamato leaned forward, "I thought that same thing, at first. But I assume you know where he is, since you've been here this whole time."

"This whole time!" exclaimed Shizune, tightly gripping the box.

"I know where he is," Kakashi admitted frankly, ignoring both Shizune's disbelief and Yamato's curiosity. He looked past his ninken, staring at Yamato and daring the man to press for more questions. "What's in the box?" he asked Shizune, when realization finally settled into Yamato's gaze.

Shizune relented, knowing full well that the newly appointed jonin in her presence would never apologize for leading her on a wild goose chase. The elders had her looking everywhere for Kakashi, from the very moment his clone jutsu disappeared into thin air. She, still grieving for her fallen friend, spent all day looking for the new Hokage instead of packing as she had intended to. "No one expected you to address the village while wearing Hokage robes, considering how rushed everything was, but it is expected of you from here on end." The kunoichi pulled the contents from the box and placed them at Pakkun's feet.

Kakashi gave what was to be his new clothes a look over, slowly peeling through the cloth with his wiry fingers. He gave Shizune a hard stare. "There are more than robes," he said.

Shizune smiled, "It's your robes as well as your new outfit. You can't be expected to dress in your normal shinobi wear, Hokage-sama." Kakashi's eyed Shizune, causing her smile to broaden. Yamato blinked several times, stunned, having yet to hear anyone address Kakashi as "Hokage"— not even himself. He thought doing so might annoy his senpai.

Kakashi absorbed the new title, slowly, as he would any foreign substance. Not wanting Shizune's respectful gaze, his eye turned downward to stare at the fine burgundy of his Hokage robes. They matched the traditional Hokage cap that, no doubt, awaited him in Tsuna—in his office. The top was a feather light wrap, beige white, with dark burgundy triangles aligning the hem. Pants of a richer fabric than his own unfolded into his lap and were quickly followed by a pair of greaves. They were pitch black and heavy, weighted with stainless steel embedded within the fine leather of each shin guard. The greaves were followed by leather black sandals that would surely reach his calf with the length of their cuffs. Then a pair of greyish black gloves appeared from beneath his new footwear, taunting Kakashi with no metal plating. These gloves, appropriately fingerless, were simply for show.

"Maa..." He honestly didn't know what to say. He looked to Shizune again, noting the anticipation on the woman's face.

"There's more," she pressed.

"...Doesn't look like it," Kakashi reasoned, waving a glove into the air. Then something small and black fell from it, right next to Pakkun's foot. Kakashi stared at it, analyzing its shape and size. He pinched it between two fingers and lifted it to his eye, watching as two black strings dangled in the air.

"It's an eye-patch," Yamato breathed, overall impressed with his senpai's Hokage clothes. They were fitting for Kakashi, various shades of burgundy and black, simple, and not as flashy or showy as kage clothes tended to be. The elders had to have had his senpai in mind for some time, to be aware of what Kakashi would and would not wear as Hokage. Not that Kakashi accepted these clothes, but it was an outfit Yamato knew the jonin would wear if he had to.

"Of course it's an eye-patch," said Shizune. "It's not part of the Hokage assemble to wear a headband. The Hokage represents the leadership of such loyalty. But Kakashi-sama can't walk around without something covering his Sharingan."

"Oh good," Kakashi chuckled, his eye turned up into a strained smile, "I've always wanted to be a pirate." His ninken snickered, causing the piglet at Shizune's feet to huff and puff.

"Okay, okay," Pakkun said, interpreting the pig's anger. "Tonton says she came up with the eye-patch idea, so we shouldn't laugh." Pakkun looked up, smiling at his human. "She's right, boss. You would need something to maintain your mysterious persona."

"Plus, other people besides pirates wear eye-patches. Blind people, for one," Shizune chuckled hesitantly, realizing her mistake in words. "I-I mean," she scratched the back of her head, terribly unraveled by Kakashi's hard, cold stare, "of-of course more than just b-blind people, like yourself, Kakashi-sama...but, I don't know anyone with a blood limit implant that has difficulty controlling it sometimes. I mean...!"

"Shizune-san," Yamato smiled sympathetically. "It's okay. I think he understands."

Kakashi sighed, waiting for Shizune's idiocy to die a painful death. Lost in his thoughts, he dropped his hand, stared at the clothes in his grasp, and frowned. He felt Pakkun nibble the eye-patch from his fingers before the pug passed it along his brothers. Soon everything in his grasp had gone missing, snatched from him by a pack of inquisitive ninken.

"In light of Tsunade's death," Kakashi paused, listening to Shizune's sharp intake of breath. Of course, he thought, it was just as Iruka had mentioned before. The two women had been very close. Kakashi had grown quite accustom to grieving, to the point where he showed very little grief for the fallen. He couldn't quite expect everyone to react the same way, he knew, but it would have been nice.

"I take it you are my new assistant, Shizune-san."

The older woman gave a hefty chortle, to his surprise.

"Being Tsunade-sama's assistant was more than a job, to me. She was my good friend, and I was her caretaker. On the road, we looked after each other and, when she became Hokage, nothing changed. With all due respect, Hokage-sama, I'm really not cut out for the position."

Kakashi could understand this. "It would be an obligation to me."

"Yes," Shizune nodded. "I'm leaving Konohagakure tomorrow. Tonton and I are going to hit the road again," she smiled. "Who knows? Let's see if we can get some of Tsunade-sama's debts cleared.”

"You're leaving?" Yamato asked, somewhat saddened by this fact.

"I do hope your ears are working," Kakashi said, with a half-lidded stare.

Yamato ignored the man, noticeably unhappy with Shizune's decision to leave the village. "You're a native here, Shizune-san, and your abilities as a kunoichi are an asset to Konoha."

"I'm sorry, Yamato-san," Shizune said with a soft tilt of her head. "I'd rather not stay, simply because I'm good at what I do."

"What other reason is there?" Kakashi's understanding had reached its end. Yamato relented, seemingly accepting this reason, but Kakashi simply could not. "You're only as significant as the number of lives you are capable of saving," he went on, firmly, but his words didn't seem to affect the smile on Shizune's lips or the conviction in her eyes. "You're still a good kunoichi, Shizune-san."

"I'm a superb kunoichi, Kakashi-sama," she corrected, "and, one day, you'll remember that there's more to life than being a perfect warrior." Shizune knelt forward, swooping Tonton into her arms. "In any case," she cooed, "just know that I will not be acting as your assistant, Kakashi-sama."

"Then who's going to help me?" he asked.

"Is the boss admitting helplessness?" snickered Urushi.

"Hardly," Kakashi shot back, "but I'm not a desk jockey and, if Tsunade's mental breakdowns were any indication, I can assume the Hokage title comes with a fairly large amount of paperwork."

"Tons," Shizune humorously cut in. "Tsunade-sama's organizational skills were fairly non-existent. She used to get confused a lot and mix up her dispatches, to where the Sand got messages that were meant for the Mist." Kakashi and Yamato's eyes went wide with alarm. "Not even I could account for the piles of paperwork that needed to be sent and filed and numbered and..."

"Maa, if you're trying to talk me out of being Hokage, you've succeeded," Kakashi said wearily.

"No, off course not," Shizune grinned. "You shouldn't worry. I'm sure Iruka-sensei wouldn't mind assisting you, like he assisted Tsunade-sama."

"Iruka-sensei?" Yamato frowned.

“I'm beginning to worry, Yamato. Are you certain your hearing hasn't been compromised?"

"I heard her loud and clear, Kakashi-senpai," Yamato heaved.

"I might have been Tsunade-sama's official assistant," Shizune continued, "but it was Iruka-sensei who helped me with most of the work. He's magnificent at keeping paperwork properly filed, and the records room is always immaculately clean when..."

"I don't need Iruka-sensei doing my work for me. I'm quite the capable jonin, and the last thing I need is the assistance of an Academy teacher—ow!" Kakashi scowled, waiting for Pakkun to retract his claws from his forearm.

"That's not what you were saying last night, when you scarfed down some of Iruka-sensei's finest miso eggplant soup like a starving dog," Pakkun growled, his nails sinking further into his human's flesh.

"He made you miso eggplant soup?" Yamato asked, bewildered.

"Yes," Kakashi cringed. "Pakkun, let go of my arm." Deliberately, Pakkun slowly pulled his nails from out of Kakashi's arm and returned to a state of harmlessness. Kakashi wanted to fling him off the bench, but there were witnesses, and all eight of his dogs were staring him down with equal glares of contempt. If he threw Pakkun, he'd have to throw them all.

"What's gotten into you guys?"

"You shouldn't badmouth Iruka-sensei like that," Guruko barked.

"He's right. You shouldn't," Shizune frowned. "Good luck with your new duties, Kakashi-sama. You're a good man, when you want to be—the village will surely thrive under your leadership. As for myself, handing over your Hokage clothes was the last of my duties. Tonton and I must pack now." The piglet in her arms squealed in agreement, causing the kunoichi to smile happily.

"Wait. I have a few questions that I'd like you to answer, Shizune-san." The request stopped Shizune. She turned around, the door gaping behind her.

"Of course, Kakashi-sama," Shizune bowed, nearly throwing Kakashi off from what he intended to say. He didn't think he'd come to appreciate such displays of respect, even if it was due only to his new title.

"You knew about the elders' decision, didn't you?" Kakashi eyed her, carefully.

"Yes, I was aware of their decision. As you can imagine, I was sworn to secrecy by Elder Mitokado. He said he would tell you, personally. I didn't think he would announce the news during Tsunade-sama's funeral, though."

"Do you know why they went with Tsunade's recommendation and chose me?"

"Isn't it obvious, Kakashi-sama?"

"Had it been obvious, I wouldn't be asking," he answered flatly.

Shizune shook her head, smiling sadly still. "The elders felt you more than qualified, with your many accomplishments as a shinobi and your ability to lead others. You wouldn't be asking me, though, if those were the only reasons."

"You're right...I wouldn't be asking you. Honestly, I don't really know why, but I'm glad they chose you. Tsunade-sama must have known she wasn't going to make it." Shizune's face fell. "She had every intention on passing the title onto you, knowing you would one day pass it onto Naruto-kun, when he was ready."

Kakashi didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. With a final farewell, Shizune departed, leaving only an empty white box in her absence. Cold air gushed in from the hallway, assaulting Kakashi with physical discomfort. He sat back, his brow furrowing in contemplation, and listened to his ninken fuss over his Hokage attire. "This is frustrating," he admitted, lowly.

Yamato sympathized with Kakashi, knowing the man well enough to know that frustration to Kakashi was borderline hopelessness. He frowned, "You know, you could have just said no. Tell the elders you respectfully decline, and I'm certain they'll choose someone else to be Hokage."

Kakashi never even considered that an option. "I'd rather not go down in the history books as the first person to disgrace the title of Hokage by turning it down. It would be a dishonor to my sensei, as well as my father."

"Of course, Kakashi-senpai." Yamato sat back, watching Kakashi's new garments and gear balance on wet noses and furry heads. "Can I see?" he asked.

"Of course!" Guruko exclaimed, while the others pawed everything over to the ecstatic dog. Guruko plopped everything into his lap, where Yamato could get a good look. However trained, they were still dogs, so he expected everything to be coated with adequate amounts of drool. He examined the top, the pants, the robe, even the accessories and noted that not even a bite mark marred his senpai's new clothing.

"Yamato."

"Yes, Kakashi-senpai?"

"I assume it would honor you to share my Hokage duties." Kakashi closed his eye and smiled a look of innocence Yamato knew to never fall for...again. The last time Yamato was honored to do anything for his senpai, he ended up in the middle of a training field, sleep-deprived, while forced to endure the agonizing chore of repressing Naruto's inner-Kyuubi for a month. Never again.

"You assume incorrectly, Kakashi-senpai. I'm just like any other jonin shinobi. I'm no good at paperwork or organization. Why don't you ask Iruka-sensei to help you? Shizune-san did say he'd be happy to assist you."

"I don't need assistance, especially not from Iruka-sensei. Whatever he can do, I can surely do better." Kakashi frowned.

"Of course, Kakashi-senpai," Yamato agreed, with little belief in his words. He went back to examining the other man's clothes, ignorant to the eight pairs of ears listening to their conversation. Kakashi sat staring down his ninkens' stares, each glare identical to the next.

"What?"

"You owe Iruka-sensei an apology," Bisuke piped up.

"Please," Kakashi rolled his eye. "I don't owe anyone anything. What I say can't be helped, just as I can't help it if a blissfully ignorant chunin decides to befriend my ninken." Yamato's gaze shot from over the robes obscuring his sight. "I don't need his help," Kakashi leered at his ninken, an equivalent amount of venom in his sinister stare, "especially when I have eight little helpers here, at my beckon call, day and night."

Kakashi's ninken grinned charitably at their human for a reason entirely different from the idea of being helpful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 'til next time :)


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi enlists his ninken in clearing out the Hokage quarters, is ambushed by Gai who's to escort him to the elders for a talk, and is none too pleased by either outcomes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for the two-day gap. Work and all. Enjoy!

"Where do you want these, boss?"

"Maa…put it all in storage."

"This all looks like some really important stuff, though," Bull insisted, pawing at a particular document that read CONTRACT across its front.

Kakashi shrugged and waved him away. Bull gently hauled the seemingly miscellaneous stack of documents within the tight clench of his jaw, passing Akino who had just returned from the storage room. Akino passed Shiba, who worked diligently on stacking paperwork piled at the edge of Tsunade's desk. Well, it was really Kakashi's desk, now, as well as the piles, the paperwork, the documents, the files, and the entire Hokage office. Kakashi never thought he'd own a desk, let alone an office, in his entire shinobi career. It seemed like more of an Iruka thing to have. He was a teacher, after all, and spent much of his time behind a desk, his watchful gaze monitoring dozens of bratty kids. He also worked behind a desk in the missions room, busting higher ranked shinobi with reports so bad it would lead anyone to believe that one of his insufferable students had completed it.

Nevertheless, Kakashi refused to think he needed the younger man's help in any way.

From what he could tell, his ninken were quite the agreeable pack of servants, doing away with Tsunade's unfinished scrolls, her letters, and her yet to be dispatched dispatches. Before Shizune and Tonton's morning departure, she helped guide Kakashi through what papers could and couldn't be done away with. She reassured him that all important documents and information had been dealt with by her, personally.

"Oh good," Kakashi had chuckled, "less work for me."

The Rokudaime leaned back, stretching his legs over the newly cleaned desk set out before him. With seemingly idle time, he pulled out an infamous green book, the final installment to Icha Icha Tactics. It was the last volume Jiraiya had completed before his death. That fact caused Kakashi to put more care in this book than he did any other Icha Icha book, and he took special care with all of his precious volumes. There were no dog-eared pages, no crinkles, and the binding of the book hadn't been bent out of shape. Now steadfastly engrossed within the pages of the book, Kakashi's instinctual vigilance gave way to the knowledge that his ninken were capable enough to deal with any threat, at any time, before the end of the chapter. He ignored the many growls and scowls gifted to him by the eight dogs sweeping, wiping, stacking, filing, moving, and ultimately doing all the cleaning that Kakashi was supposed to be capable enough to do himself.

"I hate you," Pakkun muttered under his breath, dragging a particularly heavy orange parcel between his teeth.

"I heard that," Kakashi drawled, turning another page.

"You'd think…as—damn it!" Urushi shouted, having accidentally stabbed his paw with the handle of a spray bottle. He threw the bottle across the floor. "Damn you, Kakashi! Why can't you do your own damn organizing?" Urushi growled, nursing his pulsing red paw with a few rough licks.

"Maa…?" Kakashi looked over the corner of the page, ever so slightly, to make sure Urushi hadn't seriously injured himself. The grey dog hopped a bit, with sharp teeth bare and eyes narrowed in on the new Hokage. "But you eight do so well at clearing battlefields…I thought your skills would cross over."

"Like hell you did!"

"Alright, Urushi," Akino sighed, nudging a stack of papers with a wet snout so that he could rub the dust away from the, otherwise, empty shelf. "There's no point in shouting, bro. It's too early for that." Akino pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose. "Still, I don't see why we have to do this, either," he frowned, turning on his human.

"Why can't you just ask Iruka-sensei? He's organized. You know he can be confidential. Also, he's a lot nicer than you. He would have said 'yes'."

Kakashi quickly went back to his book. He didn't need to pay attention to another bout of whining about how Iruka could do this faster and that faster, and that the chunin would do it with a smile and put a bit of warmth and love into what they had dubbed Ice King Kakashi's Frozen Fortress. They were his ninken, after all. Why must they praise another shinobi and one of lesser skill at that?

Kakashi found himself responding, regardless. "You're right. What I really thought was how you all spend every waking moment with Iruka-sensei. I assumed he passed all his cleanup expertise onto my ninken." Kakash's eye crinkled into a smile.

"Wrong, bad man!" Guruko sneered, a wet rag dangling from his mouth. Despite all their protest, Kakashi's ninken worked efficiently, cohesively, while the new Hokage managed to read three more chapters into the Icha Icha series.

Then, like a whirlwind storm of green and orange, a blur of manly strength burst through the double doors of Kakashi's office and materialized before his desk as the ever immaculately spandex clad, bowl-cut haired man, twinkling at the corner of his pearly white teeth.

"My grand Eternal Rival!" Gai-sensei bellowed, causing Kakashi's ninken to wince in aggravation. Already having to dodge the insanity that was the other jonin, nearly all eight ninken now lay on their backs, scratching attentively at their ears.

Kakashi lifted his head from his book, slowly. Reluctantly. Against his will. He'd already exerted a shoulder slump, a slow blink, and a long sigh, as he always did when approached by who could be considered a fairly close friend…if one squinted real hard.

"Gai," Kakashi voiced, with a strained smile, receiving a few snickers from the four-legged creatures draping the background.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I simply had to see it for myself," Gai exclaimed, with his hands on his hips. "Such youthful strength sitting here as our new Hokage, and in the form of my Eternal Rival, no less!" Gai struck a pose. He said with tears of joy, "I never expected this day to come so soon!"

"Really?" Kakashi muttered with feigned interest, unfazed by Gai's theatrical outbursts. "I never expect anything."

"Really?" Gai looked down, his watery eyes brimming with curiosity.

Kakashi answered pointedly, "Really."

Gai didn't delve deep to question Kakashi's reasons, and he was thankful for that. Instead, the taijutsu master gave the office a look-around, a broad smile gracing his beaming face. When Gai looked toward the two wide, rectangular windows of the room, Kakashi saw the mid-morning light illuminate his whole person. Everything from Gai's leg-warmers to his bushy eyebrows glowed with exuberant energy. Kakashi could never quite understand how Gai's very personality managed to bounce off everything that made him visually appalling to look at. It was like staring into the center of a bloody, gruesome battle that was so starkly intense it was nearly impossible to look away. But unlike a battle, Gai always possessed a rather balanced aura, one more tranquil than Kakashi would have ever expected from the outwardly flamboyant man.

"In any case, I have suffered the ultimate defeat!" Gai chuckled. "After all, you are Hokage now!" Kakashi was thankful Gai hadn't followed the statement with a low bow. He felt he'd received his unfair share of bows, enough so this morning alone to last what he expected to be a rather short lifespan.

He would have rather sent Pakkun to walk Shizune and Tonton to the village gate but, as Hokage, felt it his duty to see the two off himself. He would have anyway, simply because it was Shizune and Tonton, out of respect and camaraderie than actually wanting to walk them through the village. Kakashi couldn't help but feel the dozens of eyes watching him from behind pitifully concealed window views and alleyways. He walked awkwardly beside the kunoichi and pig-nin, tugging at the foreign fabric of Hokage clothes brushing against his skin. He couldn't help but wonder every few seconds why half the village felt it necessary to be awake at the crack of dawn, to coincidentally catch him on his first day out wearing something other than the jonin uniform he'd taken for granted all those years.

Everywhere they passed…those few proprietors setting up their shops stopped with their brooms and their buckets, pressed their shoes together, and bowed lowly. They addressed him as "Hokage-sama", with more respect than he deserved as a shinobi but more than he could appreciate. Even the two chunin guarding the gate, Kotetsu and Izumo, offered him congratulations and bowed.

"Nevertheless, Kakashi, you make your eternal rival proud."

"Mm…" Kakashi closed his book and put it away. "I take it you didn't come here just to congratulate me for something I didn't want?" he asked bluntly.

"Ever the observant one, Kakashi!" Gai snickered, shaking his head. "As always, of course, you are one-hundred percent correct! I regret to inform you I was sent here on behalf of the elders. They would like to speak with you."

"Of course," Kakashi looked away, self pityingly, off into the distance.

"They figured no one could avoid someone such as yourself."

"Who better to collect Hatake Kakashi than myself?" Kakashi had to agree with that, having long ago given up on ever avoiding Maito Gai whenever said man went out of his way to single him out. It was second nature to the jonin to simply comply in the presence of such awesome persistence. "I've also been asked, by Lady Utatane, to personally escort you to their chamber."

"So, the possibility of escaping is limited."

"Indeed."

"Maa," Kakashi whined, climbing out of his Hokage chair. "Pretty case closed to me."

Kakashi gathered himself slowly, just slow enough to stretch the time but subtle enough to make it seem as though he had every intention of meeting the elders on their terms. Little did they know he intended to do everything in his power to distract Gai, with mindless small talk—accepting challenges from the other man, if it came to it—anything he could think of along the way? True, Gai was just as perceptive and observant as himself, also being an elite jonin, but if there was one thing the spandex-clad man was most exceptional at it was playing along. His ninken had already gone back to cleaning, with their heads down in a collective demeanor of misery, and Kakashi almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

"I'll be back soon," he said, ignoring the gush of air that hit the back of his legs every time he walked. Not a second went by where he didn't consider ripping the Hokage robes from off of his back and shredding them with his sharpest kunai. "I'll leave you in charge, Pakkun."

"Why does he get to be in charge?" asked Guruko, pouting like a petulant child.

"Yeah," Pakkun agreed, now dragging a wet rag lazily beneath his paw. "What if I don't wanna be in charge?" The look in the pug's eyes begged for a fight.

"Alright fine," Kakashi pointed to Guruko. "You can be in charge then. I don't care, but make sure this place is spotless by the time I get back."

"Nice seeing ya again, Gai-sensei," grouched out Pakkun.

Gai gave the dogs a salute. "Such hard-working, magnificent creatures…until next time!" Kakashi shut the door on Gai's exclamation, which was a blessing to the eight hounds holding their paws down against their ears. The vibrations of the jonins' footsteps died down and, ever so slowly, Akino, Guruko, Bull, Pakkun, Urushi, Bisuke, Uhei, and Shiba lifted their jowls and shared small knowing smirks with one another.

* * *

 Kakashi had never ventured to the elders' chamber, but he imagined it was a cold and dank room, suffocated with moldy air and honor offerings of the past. He didn't ask why Gai knew exactly where their chambers were or how the elders had happened upon the bushy browed man to begin with. After further speculation, which didn't last very long, Kakashi concluded he really could care less. Apart from walking Tonton and Shizune to the gate this morning, there wasn't anything else he'd given much thought to. Even now, his mind wasn't set on his inevitable destination or Gai following closely beside him. Kakashi's mind was fixated on a particular page of Icha Icha, where Hiro (the main character) tricked his newest pursuit into believing she would die soon and without ever knowing what it felt like to be in the throes of passionate love.

"My youthful, hip eternal rival," Gai sighed happily, much to Kakashi's joyful ignorance, "I thought your ceremony was quite the spectacle, as did many of our fellow peers. The elders, though…"

"They want to see my head on a pike," Kakashi calmly replied.

"In a manner of speaking," Gai cringed. "I assure you, they mean no harm…"

Kakashi chuckled. "I was being dramatic, Gai. The elders wouldn't defeat me in a paperweight lifting contest, let alone punish me with any great severity."

"They could and would order Ibiki and his team to see to a reprimand fitting of the Hokage title," Gai opted, completely oblivious to the misery glazing over in his friend's one visible eye.

"I may be in a bit of trouble." Kakashi sulked.

The two fell into step, walking with relative silence for most of the short journey between the Hokage offices and the adjacent municipal building situated at the base of the tower. Kakashi was glad to see that, by this time of the day, the novelty of his newly earned title had worn off. Shinobi, left and right, working as pencil pushers and messengers, went about their daily routine as though nothing had changed…whatsoever. Kakashi nearly felt the same as he always did, strategically blending into the background. At ease, he whipped his robes from the side of his body, shoving his gloved hands down the pockets of his pants with cool confidence. He gave everyone they passed a lazy eyed stare, as he always did, receiving courteous nods in return.

"Not to worry, my dear eternal rival!" Gai wrapped an eager arm around Kakashi's shoulder, causing the smaller man to misstep.

"You are at the peak of virility, the coolest Hokage Konoha has ever seen!"

"I fail to see how being cool can save me from Morino-san," Kakashi stated thoughtfully.

"He found yesterday most entertaining," Gai reassured him.

"Now you tell me," Kakashi groaned, his eye rolling up to the heavens. Truthfully, he wasn't all that concerned. Ibiki intimidated a lot of high-leveled shinobi, but he didn't scare Kakashi for one second. Gai gave him another pat on the back and stepped aside, all smiles. Kakashi was vaguely reminded of the many times he decided to throw caution to the wind and accompany Gai to various social gatherings set up by the shinobi board. His excuse was that he had nothing better to do and at least, when he tagged along with Gai, the other man talked enough for the both of them. Then, Kakashi would sneak away, unawares, and stand by the snack table where he could read his Icha Icha series in peace.

He and Gai were night and day, in many respects.

"They want me for a lecture?" Kakashi found himself asking as the double doors to Elder Mitokado's office drew nearer.

"They only want to talk," said Gai, a stern smile fixed upon his face.

Kakashi couldn't believe that and, despite all of his nice-guy tendencies, he suspected Gai wasn't telling the whole truth. He had long grown use to the other jonin conspiring against his peace of mind. He should have known something wasn't right when Gai disappeared and a force, the pressure of Gai's hands, suddenly pushed him into the cold and dark abyss.

"Wait a second!" Sharingan swirling beneath his eye-patch, Kakashi's eyes grew wide against the dimly lit room. The smell of polished floor and smoke wood furnishings assaulted the olfactory senses that were so ritualistically hidden behind a dark blue mask. Kakashi would never mistake the two figures situated by a large, sturdy desk, as anyone other than two elders. Mitokado sat regally behind it, while Lady Utatane who stood beside it. The only two windows in the room were large and square, glowing with daylight from outside.

"You're earlier than we expected." No formal greeting, not even a polite one. When the doors closed behind him and he stepped into the light of lanterns hanging on the walls, Kakashi was met with thin-lipped frowns.

"Lady Utatane," Kakashi regarded her with strained respect, substituting a proper bow with a slow eye blink. "Had you not assigned me an escort, I would have arrived at a more appropriate time."

"Then you never would have showed up," Mitokado said, clasping his hands together. He looked Kakashi over, with scrutiny. "I see you are wearing the proper clothes for a Hokage. We hope they suit your liking."

"I doubt I'd have a say, regardless of my opinion of them."

"Do you like the design, at least?" Lady Utatane asked, in a tone as sharp as ever before.

Kakashi cocked his head to the side and shoved his hands down his pockets once again, flipping aside his Hokage robes in the process. "What I'm wearing is, suddenly, all anyone can talk about, these days…"

"We simply want to ensure that your transition into the role of leadership among the entire village is something of a successful and compliant transition…considering you don't seem all that eager to make public appearances…"

"Yeah," Kakashi chuckled slowly, scratching the back of his head, "about that—"

"Enough!" Elder Mitokado slammed his fist against the desk, leaping to his feet to glare at the wide-eyed Copy Nin. "I would expect you, Kakashi-san, of all people, to honor the traditions of our village. You were elected Hokage, and so you must adhere to the duties of the title." It was more than Kakashi had ever heard from Elder Mitokado, directly. Even the day before, when his clone was being ordered about here and there, Lady Utatane did most of the talking.

He couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, standing before the rather irate elders, basking in how Utatane's wrinkled lips curled with dissatisfaction and Mitokado's shallow face sunk into a deep scowl.

"This is not how I expect the son of the White Fang to behave. Your father must be rolling in his grave, due to the disrespect you've shown this village."

That small sliver of satisfaction quickly vanished, the very moment Mitokado shot from his seat and muttered his father's legendary name. Kakashi leered at Mitokado, with a face made of stone, causing the other man's anger to wilt. It didn't occur to Kakashi that he was staring down one of the village elders, too blinded by need to punch through the nearest wall. What was worst was that he knew that if his father were still alive, not even he would have condoned Kakashi's actions. Traditions were everything to his father and Mitokado, having known the White Fang longer than Kakashi himself, knew this as well.

That rash surge of anger quickly turned to shame, shame that Kakashi would never admit to, and whatever quick-witted remark resting on the tip of Kakashi's tongue fell to the floor, forgotten.

"You are the Hokage now, Kakashi-san," spoke Lady Utatane. Her voice drifted through the stiff air with all the insincere softest Kakashi could muster. "You are the Rokudaime. As elders of Konohagakure, and as members of the council who considered your name for nomination, we expect you to act according to the title you have been honored."

Kakashi looked between the two, long and hard. "Speaking of your nomination," his voice carried angrily across the room, "Why wasn't I informed?"

Mitokado took to his seat once more, eyeing Kakashi with much thought. "It was a matter of time, Kakashi-san," Utatane answered instead, the closed fan in her hand dancing between her fingers. "Konoha is battle ruined, weak, and in low supply of shinobi. The Fourth Shinobi War has revealed to other hidden villages that we are in a vulnerable state. At this time, the absence of a Hokage was not a weakness we could afford," the old woman said sternly.

"How nice of you to have Konoha's reputation in mind," Kakashi replied in a deadpan tone. "That doesn't explain why I couldn't be informed."

"We had no time—"

"There was plenty of time," Kakashi shot back, practically yelling at Mitokado and Utatane. He glared, "I was on a mission. It took days for my return. You could have told my former team, my comrades. You could have informed Naruto, Yamato, or Iruka-sensei, but you didn't. You decided to withhold this from everyone, so that you could use this sudden announcement to pull the strings of the village."

"We are not pulling the strings," Mitokado frowned.

"Konoha is mourning the loss of Tsunade-sama, and you know this. Now you're trying to erase the memory of her altogether. You think people don't see this for what it is, putting me in front of the crowds and hoping they'll forget about the fact that the village is in shambles?"

"How insightful of you, Kakashi," Utatane breathed bitterly.

"You let on to lead everyone to believe you a man of indifference. Perhaps, we were wrong."

"Perhaps, you placed your name under the wrong man," Kakashi stated, dismissing Mitokado's words. "Maybe, you were too rash in thinking you could bully me into this, thinking I would roll over like a domesticated mutt."

"Not at all," Mitokado breathed, "which is the other reason why we didn't tell you. Had we informed you that your name was up for consideration, you would have done anything to ensure that the other elders would never conform to our wishes."

"You really know me well," Kakashi said. It was a substitute for what he really wanted to say. Subtle rebellion was one thing, but even Kakashi could not forgive outright disrespect. He was frustrated, enraged, and usually the way to rid himself of these unwanted emotions manifested in the form of a mission. He could kill another killer, get paid, and rid himself of these feelings in the process. Then Kakashi was reminded that, as Hokage, the likelihood of him ever being assigned another mission was next to none. "Actually, you don't know me at all," Kakashi corrected himself.

"We don't need to know anything other than that you are Konohagakure's strongest warrior," Utatane stepped forward. "You, Kakashi, amid so many skilled men and women, stand out for your overall ability and dedication to the village. All of Konoha knows who you are. When enemies hear your name, they cower in fear and retreat in defeat." Utatane reached up and graced a hand on Kakashi's shoulder, where he could see the wrinkled skin of her arm and the liver spots that decorated it, dance in the corner of his eye. "You make this village proud, for your achievements. You helped to defeat Madara, and you helped bring in his last, fallen descendant for the execution he so justly deserves."

Kakashi stepped away and out of reach.

Utatane's hand fell to her side. "Is it still not clear, why we chose you?"

"I didn't ask why you chose me," Kakashi answered, gripping the interior of his pockets.

Utatane stared at him pointedly. "The question is there, written all over your face."

"That's half a face," Kakashi pointed out, feeling compelled to correct her over something so trivial. "I've got this eye-patch here too…it's hardly even a quarter," he shrugged. The two elders stared at him blankly, but Kakashi thought it an undeniable argument. For Utatane to say she could read his face was absurd, because he wouldn't be good at his job if she could. Could she really detect all the emotions coursing through him, he wouldn't be the best shinobi Konoha had to offer and, for all intended purposes, his mask would be useless. "Why not nominate Naruto, then? He's proven himself stronger than anyone...he's succeeded even me."

"Uzumaki has yet to master the skills necessary to be… an effective leader," Mitokado said quickly, brushing away the suggestion. "He is too inexperienced, and however grateful Konoha may have been, for his role in this recent war, it is too early to presume the village wouldn't have reservations if we allowed him to lead our nation."

"So, instead you chose someone the village would follow blindly, with no questions asked?"

"Of course…" the moment the uttered words escaped Mitokado's lips it was apparent to Utatane and Kakashi both that he hadn't meant to say them. The old man's face went sour. "No more games, Kakashi," he growled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You can either accept our decisions or not. Either way, you are now the Rokudaime. You can uphold the title and lead the hidden leaf village, or demand for your resignation and be done with it."

"No sir. I'm not going anywhere," Kakashi drawled, glaring back and forth between the elders. "From here on end, I accept and will fulfill the role of the Rokudaime in its entirety. However, I am not some trophy that can be dangled in front of Konohagakure or any other hidden village. I will not just be a Hokage in title, sit back, and allow you and your fellow council members to manipulate the citizens of Konoha from behind the curtains. Also," he paused, and the glare of his eye lowered to a near slant, "I will never back down from fighting for what I think is right. I will not be your errand boy."

Lady Utatane folded her arms over her chest and raised a curious brow. "Are you finished?" she asked, her fan dangling from her wrist by a strong thread.

"I have nothing more to say," Kakashi said, just as suave as ever.

"Are you quite certain that you have absolutely nothing more to say to us?" Mitokado pressed on, leaning forward and just a bit over his desk.

Kakashi sighed, knowing exactly what they wanted to hear. They wanted to hear an apology, he knew, for his absence during yesterday's inauguration. He briefly contemplated how sincere it had to sound, in order to get Elder Mitokado and Lady Utatane off his back. Even now, with no real intention of apologizing, his body fell in line. Kakashi nearly bowed, simply out of habit. "No, nothing else comes to mind. Good day, Elder Mitokado. Lady Utatane," he nodded to them both, before disappearing in a puff of smoke. It was becoming a familiar reaction to the elders, who both produced grave frowns.

"Hmph," Lady Utatane scoffed, now staring off into the space that used to be Kakashi's solid form. "What a familiar sight. Do you recall…?" she turned to Mitokado. "Hiruzen would react the same way, whenever Tobirama had a bone to pick with him."

Mitokado sulked, absolutely disgruntled by the memory of his friend's old antics. "There are just too many similarities for anyone's comfort," he complained, resting his chin against the palm of his hand. He stared down at his desk, at the unfinished scroll at his tutelage, deep in thought. "Then again…"

"Hm?" Utatane frowned.

"He's much more like the White Fang than I initially thought," he admitted. "Sakumo-san would be proud to see his son has achieved a great deal and made it this far." He looked up, exchanging curt nods with his remaining team member. "We made the right decision."

"Of course we did," Lady Utatane gave an unabashed chuckle. "Was there ever a doubt in your mind?"

"But yesterday…"

"Yesterday was nothing," she shot back, walking towards the windows. "I honestly expected much worse from the man. As it is, the entire village was entertained by his antics."

"I'm more concerned with the response of our fellow councilmen."

"Nonsense," Utatane stared out towards the village that was alive with men and women working and children playing. Citizens of Konoha, once again, going about their daily lives. Every so often, another sight of destruction met her gaze, but it was quickly followed by a dedicated shinobi at work to contain and reconstruct the area. "The council can be controlled. They have no real concerns but to further their own agendas."

"Too true," Mitokado sighed. The chamber room went quiet. Mitokado returned to the task laid out on his desk, while Lady Utatane returned to staring out at Konoha, replaying their exchange with Kakashi in her mind.

"Homura-san."

"Hm?"

Lady Utatane turned, her brow askew with curiosity. "Which sensei is Iruka-sensei, again?"

* * *

 When Kakashi reappeared in his own chambers, amid a cloud of smoke, it looked absolutely nothing like the Hokage office he had inherited from the Godaime. The room he now gazed upon, with an eye so wide with disbelief that one would think someone had spoiled the ending of an Icha Icha novel for him, could easily rival the missions room at the end of a long work week. The floor was indistinguishable, hidden beneath a sea of loose leaf papers fluttering about. Amid the mess, chaotically decorating the carpeted floor, lay eight limp ninken sprawled about the room.

"What the hell…" Kakashi breathed in sharply, as an explainable sense of horror began to suffocate him. The near inaudible response caused Pakkun to stir. The pug flipped from off his back, tossing a few more sheets and scrolls from the desk to the floor. "Pakkun!"

"Hm? What happened?" With droopy eyes and droopy ears, the pug's stumpy body twisted this way and that as he lazily searched the room. When his nose caught hold of Kakashi's scent he snorted and slumped back against the desk. "Oh, it's just you," he yawned, rolling over.

"Oi!" Kakashi slammed a gloved fist against the table top, effectively startling Pakkun from going back to sleep. "Go to sleep again, and I'll throw you out the window."

"I'm up, I'm up," the pug insisted, getting to his front paws.

"Pakkun, what the hell happened here?"

"Happened where?"

"What happened here, around you?" Kakashi pinched together the saggy skin at the base of Pakkun's neck and lifted him into the air. Pakkun struggled with great effort, whimpering and whining all the while, but Kakashi felt no pity for the pug in his grasp.

Pakkun gave the room a sordid stare, and said in a groggy voice, "How would I know, boss? You didn't leave me in charge, remember?"

"I was gone for maybe all of twenty minutes. Surely you were coherent for the five minutes it took to crap all over my office."

"No crap...potty trained remember? Ow!" Pakkun yelped, when Kakashi dropped him to the floor. Pakkun crawled away from his wrath as the Rokudaime searched his slumbering hound team for a particularly spastic sleeper. He found Guruko lying in the corner, making a nice and cozy home over a pile of manila files. Kakashi climbed over Shiba and Bisuke's limp bodies, glaring at the long-whiskered dog running in his sleep.

Kakashi kicked him in his rump. "Wake up, you useless mutt."

Guruko growled, "Hey, what's the big..." he stopped short when he realized the face staring back at him was his rather annoyed human. "Hey, boss," he suddenly grinned. His loud, boisterous tone managed to stir the rest of his brothers, until all eight ninken were in some state of awake. Guruko swung his tail around and sniffed the bottom of Kakashi's pants. "So, how did your meeting go?"

"It seems to have managed better than this room, apparently." Kakashi felt the innate need to kick the dog once more, because the cheeky grin on Guruko's face never let up, despite the obvious killer intent radiating from the Hokage's being. Kakashi pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbed his one visible eye.

"Guruko...I leave you in charge, for less than half an hour. How...why?" Kakashi was having a hard time grasping the unbelievable. All that hard work, exerted from his ninken, through stacking and organizing and filing...it would seem that all the documents and scrolls they compiled together that morning had been thrown across the room in some lavish paper party.

"Why what, boss?"

"Why does it look like everything you sad excuse for ninken shuffled together this morning is now on the floor? Are you trying to make me mad?"

"No! No! Of course not!" Guruko insisted, prodding his nose against Kakashi's leg. "We were working… and then we got bored… so we played a game."

"A game?" Kakashi frowned, his half-lidded eye falling even lower.

"He's telling the truth, boss," Uhei said, sauntering over, "but it wasn't really a game. It was a test of wits, strength, and speed. After you left, Gai-sensei came back to chat us up, but we ended up challenging him to a little friendly contest."

"What was the contest, who can piss me off more?"

"Of course not," Akino answered, climbing to his feet. "With a challenge like that, there's no telling who would win," he finished, circling around the Hokage. "One minute we were talking, about you, and how you skipped out on your own Hokage ceremony—Gai-sensei thought it was ingenious, by the way."

"Go on," Kakashi pressed onward, the anger accumulating in his voice. Even the calm and collected Akino had to flinch at the sound of his master's voice and the narrowed glare of his steely grey eye.

"One moment we were just talking and the next..." Bisuke trailed off, looking for the right words; at least, the right words that wouldn't end with Kakashi tying them to a post at night.

"The next, what?" Kakashi stared down his elite ninken team.

Bull shrugged his big bulky shoulders, sidling between his brothers. "The next thing we knew, we were challenging him to see who could stack the most papers in under twenty seconds." Kakashi thanked his good sense to wear a mask, or every airborne bacterium known to man would have made quite the settled home in his gaping mouth. "What?"

Kakashi couldn't stop staring, never so bewildered by his ninkens' behavior. They'd never acted out with such recklessness before. They were getting cheeky too, Kakashi noted, when it occurred to him that folders and loose paper wasn't all that littered his new office. He could only stand there and wonder how a challenge involving only paper involved mud trailing here and there, all dried in the distinct shape of a dog's paw print. Since when did stacking paper result in crinkled scrolls scattered about the room, soiled in what Kakashi could only pray was water? Was there such a thing as replacement nin hounds? Kakashi was willing to find out. This particular ninken pack had been passed down the Hatake clan bloodline, but the Rokudaime saw no harm in entertaining the decision to have all eight ninken put down.

Urushi materialized before Kakashi, cackling lowly. "I think we broke him."

"We're real sorry, boss. We really are," said Shiba as his tongue lapped out and extended, making way for a giant yawn.

"You're all useless," Kakashi said suddenly, blinking. "I could do without you, you know. Have I told you that before?"

"Almost every other week, you say that." Pakkun leaped up, climbing his small form up the length of Kakashi's body, before settling over the man's broad shoulder. "It's not true. You love us."

"Maa, wanna bet?"

"You do know what this means though, don't you?"

"Dead dog?"

"Oh, you…young pup," Pakkun chuckled, addressing Kakashi's inquisitive death glare with a grin that lifted the saggy skin about his face. Aside from the occasional hard kick to the gut or harmless strangle, Kakashi did little else to punish them. The human never went out of his way to cause them the misery they consistently caused him. Pakkun and his brothers were older than they looked, having served six generations of the Hatake clan. When Master Sakumo took his life and past on, he left behind his only living descendant, a broken boy who dealt with the death of his father in a rather unusually detached manner. The pug had always known Kakashi, but it wasn't until that day, did a bond that would last a lifetime, consume them both.

Pakkun knew Kakashi in and out, knew that, when it came down to it, the boy dealt with fear and rage the way any respectable shinobi would: on the battlefield. He never lashed out on the people he cared about, individuals who were too far and between for his ninken's liking. Apart from his team and his nin-pack, there weren't many other people Kakashi trusted enough to let his guard down.

"No dead dogs. What would you do without us?"

Kakashi sighed, staring at the dog on his shoulder. "What does this mean Pakkun," he asked, emitting his coldest tone.

Pakkun shrugged. "Isn't it obvious? Ninken weren't meant to toil away their usefulness in this way. We're an active breed and, apparently, sitting in an office for even a few hours, doing your dirty work, makes us a bit…careless. Wouldn't you agree, Kakashi?"

Kakashi would have gladly screamed into Pakkun's face with an affirmative, but he was more poised than that and refused to give the pug the pleasure. Furthermore, the rest of ninken team had gone back to lounging about, all rolling over documents and pressing their dirty padded feet against sheets of pure white. They continued to watch him, however, secretly entertained with his frustration. To Kakashi's credit, he understood how his ninken functioned just as they understood how he functioned.

They were a cretinous lot of the sadistic nature.

Pakkun gave a long, drawn-out sigh. "I guess you have no other option than to ask Iruka-sensei for his assistance. He is, after all, exceptional at this kind of work." The small dog stretched languidly. "He'd have this place in tip-top shape in no time. I mean, I doubt even we could put together all the right papers into the right files."

"I can see how that would be difficult, considering you guys deliberately removed the paperclips," Kakashi hissed, staring intently around the room. Eight pairs of eyes watched him, waiting. "Why do you guys continue to insist I need help from a chunin?"

"It's not just any chunin," Pakkun drawled. "He's Iruka-sensei."

"So?" Kakashi shrugged. "What's so special about him?"

"Are you kidding me?" Shiba yelled out, a mixture of disbelief and annoyance in the canine's face. "Are you blind?"

"Shiba!" Akino hissed, effectively silencing the other dog.

Reluctantly, Shiba stepped back, slumping against a pile of papers. Kakashi stood confused but not all that interested in the reason or motives behind the actions of his ninken. The look of contempt on his hound's face did very little to intimidate him, considering he could easily release their summoning. More and more, however, when he found himself annoyed to the point of banishing them, they always retreated to Iruka's home.

Pakkun continued, "Why do you have a problem with Iruka-sensei helping you?"

"I don't have a problem," Kakashi corrected. "This is not a problem." He wasn't some weak, pre-genin brat that needed Iruka's assistance. So what if the younger man was an efficient chunin who worked well around mounds and mounds of paperwork, all documented with confusing codes that were in need of proper filing? Who cared that he had a good rapport with the office workers and the business side of the shinobi world, and it wasn't as if Kakashi couldn't keep track of all the meetings and social functions he would be required to attend now that he was the Hokage of the Hidden Leaf.

"It's not about having a problem," Pakkun sulked, irritated that he didn't seem to be getting through to the unusually oblivious man in his charge. "This is about you being insecure…that's it, isn't it?" Pakkun watched Kakashi's face for a reaction, and when he saw the slightest of twitches in the man's normal eye, he was certain he'd prodded the right nerve. "…Being Hokage is a lot to live up to, so it's not surprising you have issues trusting other people with the duties you've been saddled with. All those meetings—all that paperwork—not to mention," Pakkun shrugged, "all the political mumbo-jumbo that will surely ensnare you when you're forced to attend international summits. Tsk, tsk," The pug smiled evilly but hid it well when Kakashi's shifty-eyed stare threatened to dissect his ruse for what it was.

Pakkun jumped off Kakashi's shoulder, standing at the head of his brethren. He circled himself briefly and then stood with his two front legs pressed together.

"Let's face it, Kakashi. You're out of your realm of expertise, when it comes to the role of being a Hokage. As a fighter and a leader, there is none better. But you need help from someone who's used to working behind the scenes. Even Shizune-chan admitted to needing Iruka-sensei's help more often than most, so why not let him assist you?"

Kakashi thought critically about all the valid points Pakkun presented, but it didn't stop the devastation he felt. He wasn't an ignorant man who couldn't submit to reason, he just preferred not to when it came to admitting vulnerability. Pakkun had brought up all the Hokage responsibilities that Kakashi had mentally blocked out, until now. It was inevitable, and Kakashi's habit of always trumping the odds with being prepared and learned, he knew, would eventually overshadow the desire to be defiantly reckless.

"You only want Iruka-sensei around to be pampered," Kakashi argued weakly.

"If that were true, we'd just follow him around all day. He wouldn't mind. We could help him in his classes… and with desk duty." Pakkun grinned. Kakashi refused to give his ninken the satisfaction, by pointing out that helping with desk duty would be eerily similar to what they were supposed to have accomplished here.

“I hate every single one of you," he said, instead.

"No ya don't." Pakkun rolled his eyes. "So, what's your decision?"

"What's my decision on what?"

"Will you ask Iruka-sensei to assist you now?"

Kakashi blinked, went to speak, but when he looked to his ninken once more each were leaning forward with different levels of suspense in the glossy gleam of their eyes. He'd never seen them so anxious, so excited, not since admitting they forgot what he looked like behind his mask and asking Kakashi to let them see his face. Kakashi didn't know the memory spans of canine but, if his hounds were any testament, it wasn't very long. He had to admit that Pakkun was right about one thing: he was unskilled in the art of office work and cared little for proper political and administrative etiquette.

Kakashi's eye roamed the room once more. He vowed to deal with Gai later but thought quickly of how he could punish his dogs and came up empty. "I guess I could go speak with him now," he muttered, sighing. Guruko barked and smiled like all the other ninken. "Yes, I should do that."

"Yes you should!" Guruko agreed, practically dancing in one spot.

Kakashi found himself smiling with eerie fakeness, as his visible eye crinkled suspiciously. "I'm sure Iruka-sensei will appreciate having to clean this mess you made… like that mud track I see there, running up the wall." Kakashi watched as eight smiles faltered simultaneously. "Knowing how nice and loving you all say Iruka-sensei is, I'm certain he'll thank you for what I'm sure is nothing but an effortless workout for him." With that Kakashi vanished, leaving his ninken to wallow in their self-made guilt. Pakkun, Shiba, Bull, Urushi, Uhei, Bisuke, Guruko, and Akino looked between one another, knowing what they had to do.

"That jerk," Uhei scoffed.

"I don't want to punish Iruka-sensei," Bisuke whimpered pitifully against his two front paws.

"Come on, fellas," Bull groused, getting up. "You know what we gotta do."

"This sucks," Urushi scowled but, like his brothers, quickly went to work cleaning up Kakashi's office. They couldn't reorganize documents, since they couldn't tell what went with what, but the least they could do was get rid of the mud, the dirt, and stack everything into neat piles.

"He's so stupid, sometimes, it's beyond comprehension," Pakkun sighed, going about his work.

Seven dogs replied in unison, "Agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! ^_^


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi and Iruka discuss the terms of a new agreement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Soooo many semi-colons. Like, why. :\

Iruka rushed around his classroom, in the brief lunch period between morning and afternoon classes. Suzume-san, a fellow colleague, had invited him to lunch but he respectfully declined. He wasn't particularly hungry, too concerned with successfully getting through the school day. The chunin sensei felt even worse, thinking that his less than stellar attitude might be affecting his class. They too seemed downtrodden and more subdued than any class Iruka had ever taught. Despite himself, Iruka spent all morning praying for the moment he could dismiss his students for their afternoon break.

He sighed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

The students' play and idle laughter was like music to his ears, drifting in by way of an open window. Iruka felt it a blessing that young minds could be so fickle during times of great hardship. None of the children out there now, running around with their friends and playing ninja, were thinking about how their village had suffered. When he leaned up against the windowsill and allowed his gaze to scan the training fields that surrounded the Academy, he was glad to see so many bright smiles and glowing faces. Despite his own dismay, he wanted his students to be happy and thankful for the day that so many lives sacrificed to protect their village would never see.

"Is it not a fine afternoon, Iruka-sensei."

"Ack!" Iruka yelped, stumbling back from the windowsill. He did what any caught off-guard shinobi would do and swiftly pulled a kunai from his vest. He charged the new arrival, who countered with speed and efficiency. He found his hand gripped tightly by the wider, paler, fingerless gloved hand of another, as he was pulled forward to stare deep into the one visible eye of a masked man. The eye smiled at him, while the tip of his weapon rested just centimeters from the dark grey lashes lining the eye-lid. Below the eye sat a silver brow that sunk into a shock of silver hair. Iruka froze, staring into the upside down face of the one and only Hatake Kakashi.

"Attacking your Hokage, neh Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi's voice jolted Iruka from his stupor, causing the Academy teacher to shuffle back into the room. Kakashi smiled behind his mask, amused by the unease glistening in Iruka's eyes and the faint blush upon the other man's face. He flipped into the classroom, landing square on his feet, and regarded the academically furnished environment with some consideration. All the while, Iruka readjusted himself, respectfully distant and standing with his hands together.

He addressed the robed man, bowing deeply. "My apologies, Hokage-sama. I-I should have anticipated your arrival," he finished with another bow. Kakashi frowned, the genuine smile behind his mask and the crinkle in his eye falling into an inexplicable bout of disdain. It annoyed him, the way the village people responded to his title, but watching Iruka subdue himself in the same manner brought on a dislike he couldn't understand. It was demanded that some low-level chunin show the Hokage the respect he was entitled to. Iruka had done exactly that, so why did seeing the younger man with his head bowed low and his shoulders hunched forward bother Kakashi so much?

So troubled was the jonin that he felt obligated to comment on it. "Is that it, then?" he began, stepping farther into the room. "Are you going to address me as Hokage-sama and bow whenever I enter a room, now?"

Iruka's eyes shot up, confused. "With all due respect, Kakashi-san, you are Hokage now."

"Of course…why would Iruka-sensei ever break his good-boy streak, eh? He's such a goody-goody two shoes. He would never defy the customs of Konohagakure."

"Hokage-sama…" Iruka's voice emitted lowly, strained, the way it did whenever Kakashi was treading in deep water. The jonin stepped even closer, entertained by the way Iruka's temple pulsed, but he wasn't satisfied just yet.

"What? Is there something harmless Iruka-sensei would like to say? Maa…he could never disrespect the Hokage…"

"You're making it very difficult not to," Iruka scowled, averting his gaze. Kakashi smirked and stepped forward some more, ever so slightly, until he could see down the bridge of Iruka's scarred nose.

"What was that, Iruka-sensei? I can't hear you when you're mumbling. I guess it's hard to tell me off, since I'm the Hokage now." Kakashi hummed with sadistic glee. He looked at the weapon and the uncertain hand practically strangling it. "Are you going to come at me with that kunai?" he drawled lazily. He added a soft chuckle, knowing it would only cause Iruka to blush like mad. The chunin's dark eyebrows couldn't possible rumple together anymore, without threatening to become one, and so further did the Rokudaime note things that distinguished Iruka from all the other shinobi he knew. Most interesting was the way Iruka's mouth curled at the corner of his lips, whenever the anger in him threatened to boil over. Making Iruka mad wasn't complete until a gleam of mischief surfaced in the chunin's brown eyes, so Kakashi wasn't doing his job if Iruka didn't look ready to lash out by any means necessary.

"You shouldn't sneak up on someone like that," Iruka hissed dangerously. "I could have killed you, you know."

"Tch…No you couldn't have," Kakashi scoffed, chuckling still. "I am the Hokage, the strongest shinobi of the village, and you are an Academy teacher that tends to scraped knees and bruised elbows."

“And inflated egos…you ass," Iruka scowled. "That's what you are."

"Mission accomplished," Kakashi sighed with content. Iruka shoved his kunai back into his vest and turned on his heel, storming off towards his desk. Kakashi shuffled along, smiling, and followed Iruka at a safe distance.

"What do you want, Kakashi-san."

"I'm shocked, Iruka-sensei," he murmured with feigned surprise.

"How can you address your Hokage in such a harsh tone?"

"Shut up or tell me why you're here," Iruka shot back, not missing a beat. He quickly made use of himself, going back to separating papers into piles of three different assignments. Kakashi watched him, feeling strangely out of place when Iruka worked so mind-numbingly effortlessly.

"Aren't you going to say something about my outfit?" Kakashi asked, surprising himself, but he expected the chunin to have said something about his new attire.

Iruka, however, didn't even stop to look up. "Would you like me to say something about your outfit?"

"Not at all," Kakashi shrugged, his left hand reaching back to ruffle his hair. He glided his fingers through the shocking clumps of grey and sighed. "You are socially repetitive and, from what I've observed, have a knack for stating the obvious. I thought you, of all people, would have expressed some manifestation of shock towards my new outfit."

Iruka froze and the papers in his hands went limp. "It's a wonder how you manage to become Hokage, when your day is packed with so many shinobi irrelevant activities." He continued shuffling papers.

"Watching people is relevant to being a shinobi."

"Oh...Does it branch off as a practice in reconnaissance? Or are you arguing it's merely an exercise in keeping tabs on the enemy?" Iruka suggested sarcastically and continued to sift through student work.

"Don't be ridiculous," Kakashi jeered, eyeing Iruka suspiciously. "Watching other people helps me keep track of where they are so that I can avoid them."

"I think Jiraiya-sama used that excuse once, but it didn't stop him from landing a spare bed in the hospital." Kakashi bulked, but he thought of only one woman that could put Jiraiya in a hospital bed, a busty, blonde bombshell that, chronologically, probably aged older than mummy dust. But Tsunade never believed anything Jiraiya did to be anything but perverse, so it would have been foolish for Ero-sennin to use that excuse on Tsunade, to begin with.

Iruka heaved a great sigh. "Your outfit is presentable; functional," the chunin resigned, blushing. "Hanging from a windowsill in three-layered robes isn't something everyone can do, or, think to do..." Kakashi chuckled, genuinely amused. Iruka looked him up and down, and the faint heat in his face managed to grow. "It's a shame you didn't wear this during the ceremony you failed to attend," he frowned.

"I bet you went hysterical," Kakashi imagined, "when it was apparent that I wasn't actually there."

"No, I didn't. I mean, I wasn't…" Iruka struggled to find the right words. He shook his head. "I was glad, actually, when it turned out not to be you." He placed the last piece of paper on top of the middle stack. Kakashi could see the vague outline of chicken scratch writing and pitiful geometrical shapes. It looked like his mission reports sans the crude drawings. "I know that may surprise you, Kakashi-san, since I'm so predictably by the book…"

"I hear you didn't use to be."

A soft smile adorned Iruka's features. "Keep in mind then that I can make your life a living nightmare, if I wanted to."

"You're now threatening your Hokage, sensei?" Iruka rolled his eyes, busying himself with ignoring Kakashi. He walked away from his desk and pass the Copy Nin, now focusing on the chalkboard littered with writing. "You should be careful. I can have Anbu guards summoned to take you away whenever I see fit."

"Show some mercy, and have them take me away now," Iruka muttered over his shoulder. He picked up an eraser and proceeded to wipe away at the white chalk. Kakashi watched him, intently, and how chalk particles dissolved into puffs of thin air. The Academy teacher wiped away in a back and forth, half circle motion, up and down and side to side, until the entire board was relatively clean.

Kakashi leaned back against a student desk, staring at the Konoha crest stitched into the back of the vest he borrowed only a few nights ago. "You were surprised, at least."

"Surprised by you, Kakashi-san? Never."

"You were surprised that it turned out to be a kage bunshin."

"A lot of people were surprised," Iruka turned, setting the eraser down on the wooden receptacle, "but I also know that there are very few people who expected anything more from you, Kakashi-san... Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not showing up.” The passive expression, the look Kakashi knew easily led strangers to believe Iruka incapable of scorn or wrongdoing, turned into a glimmer of frustration, as Iruka explained, "I wasn't shocked when Elder Mitokado named you the Rokudaime, but I never expected the announcement to happen during Tsunade-sama's funeral. It was insensitive and an insult to her memory to place your inauguration so close to her funeral ceremony."

"Right after," Kakashi reminded him.

"Right after!" Iruka growled, pacing back and forth. "I mean, what were they thinking? I understand the need to reinstate the position of Hokage, and everything, but this transition could have been dealt with more discretion. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I—"

"Usually the village is given a week to mourn the loss of their Hokage, and yet we're thrown right back into duty. They couldn't sacrifice a week to show proper last respects? You know what I think?" Iruka suddenly stopped, startling Kakashi because his eye had been following his back and forth pacing so diligently.

"I—I don't know," he admitted dazedly. "Your mind is moving faster than mine, apparently."

Iruka lowered a shaking finger with embarrassment. "Sorry, Kakashi-san," he said, his tone much softer than before. Instead of that fervent glare, there was only helpless misery in Iruka's eyes. "It's inappropriate of me to speak ill of the elders, I know, but their actions of late have been questionable, at best," he finished, averting his gaze.

Kakashi looked onward, thoughtfully. He could admit that watching Iruka was somewhat of a pastime, but the chunin proved to be more fascinating than his profession led anyone to believe. The man could be rather insightful. It was no wonder that Naruto's graduating class, the Rookie 9, proved to be such critical and opinionated shinobi.

"Kakashi-san?" Iruka's voice broke into his thoughts.

"You shouldn't apologize, Iruka-sensei. It's a sign of weakness."

"Of course," Iruka muttered, biting fury in his tone. "I should keep that in mind when it comes to you." His glare had returned, staring the Copy Nin down angrily.

Kakashi shook his head, "I didn't mean to insult you, Iruka-sensei. It's merely a cold hard fact."

"That's not a fact. That's an opinion."

"In our world, it's a fact, a harsh one, but a fact nonetheless."

Iruka pushed away from his desk. "Says you, Kakashi-san," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Says me and any shinobi you'll ever meet, Iruka-sensei." Kakashi lifted himself from the desk he'd been leaning on, approaching Iruka slowly. "It just so happens that I, the Hokage, also know this to be true. I know you're an idealist, but even you can't be so naïve."

"Even me?" Iruka sneered, laughing darkly. "Are you going to tell me now how I'm too sensitive and how much of a weakness that is? Oh wait…you already did that, didn't you? The night before, and the day before that, and the day before that…" Like a slow moving predator, an increasingly angry chunin sensei began to advance on Kakashi, and Kakashi found himself incapable of escaping the other man's intense gaze. "Honestly, I don't know why I put up with you, Kakashi-san," he shook, his voice rising ever so steadily. Kakashi, elite jonin and newest Hokage of Konohagakure, watched with fearful fascination as Iruka stepped closer and closer, until a chalk covered finger was violently prodding him in the chest. "If it wasn't for Naruto, I wouldn't suffer through such an opinionated jerk as you, and for a Hokage to say something like that!" Iruka yelled.

"Maa…Iruka-sensei," Kakashi tried to defuse him with the slightest of step backs, but Iruka didn't seem to be stopping his parade of grievances any time soon.  
"With world views like that, you'll never be half the Hokage Tsunade-sama was! She was like the Sandaime: caring, understanding, and compassionate. Tsunade-sama knew that not everyone was the same, just as he did—!"

"Iruka!"

Kakashi gripped Iruka at the forearm, to stop the man from stabbing a hole straight through to his heart. Then he pulled him forward.

"That's enough!" The Hokage demanded, effectively silencing the Academy teacher. Iruka slumped, slightly, and his head sunk low. It caused his ponytail to bob forward and hover in the air. Kakashi couldn't see his face, but he could tell that Iruka was wracked with emotion, more than needed to waste on a jonin with an, albeit warranted, ego. "Iruka, stop it, now. You're going overboard."

"No…I'm not," he said defiantly, but it was apparent in his voice that he had. Kakashi didn't know what to address first, the insults or the crumpling chunin standing before him. He didn't let go of Iruka's arm either, feeling the warm skin there and mindlessly kneading it with his bare fingers. He raised their connected limbs at arm’s length, just in case Iruka decided to start jabbing at him some more. He would never admit that being poked in the chest with all the fury Umino Iruka had to offer hurt like hell, especially now that Kakashi no longer wore a vest.

He thought back to the Iruka's words and momentarily thought to counter-argue with how true shinobi were not compassionate, did not care and were not understanding, particularly, when the enemy was begging for their life. Deep down, the Kakashi he once was, in his youth, before Obito's apparent death, threatened to come forward and make this point. The jonin found he struggled with that Kakashi more often than most, especially since spending more time with shinobi like Iruka and Naruto.

But watching the man now,the rise and fall of his shoulders, Kakashi fought internally to agree with the copper skinned chunin. After all, to some degree, Iruka's declaration of compassionate, caring Hokages seemed true enough. The Late Sarutobi was nothing but a great man who cared too much, and he loved and cared for many of the broken shinobi in his village. Kakashi had been one of them. Like the Sandaime, Tsunade stressed the need to care about your fellow shinobi with just as much emphasis. Maybe he didn't know exactly why Iruka was so personally devoted to the Godaime, or the relationship they shared, but the chunin didn't speak falsely of the Godaime being a compassionate leader. Then there was the Fourth, his own sensei, who was a man who cared for Kakashi and understood him more than anyone the jonin had ever met.

Maybe Kakashi would never be as compassionate, caring, or as great as his predecessors, which was something he knew the very moment Mitokado announced him the Rokudaime. It never bothered him before, knowing that the shinobi he succeeded were difficult to surpass him in life. But why did it bother him so much, to hear Iruka say the things he already knew? Even if the man was emotionally compromised and said what he said out of hurt than with any actual validity, why did Kakashi have to swallow hard and force a familiar feeling of shame down to the darkest pit of his heart?

"Iruka-sensei," Kakashi began, but he didn't know what to say. Finding the right words became all the more difficult when he noticed the smallest droplet of salty water fall through the air and plant itself on the worn wooden floor. It was soon accompanied by a few more droplets, until that one circular bead morphed into an amoeba of water sinking into the floorboards. Kakashi didn't need Iruka wiping violently at his eyes to know the man was crying.

"I apologize, Kakashi-san," Iruka muttered, and Kakashi did well to just keep his trap shut about his feelings about apologies.

"You don't need to apologize, Iruka-sensei."

"Yeah, I know, because it only shows how weak I am."

"No, you shouldn't apologize to me…because you're right." Iruka's face lifted into view, revealing eyes tightly constricted from shedding more tears. There was a lot of sorrow in his eyes, more than from the night before. He was keeping everything in, which was unusual for a man who wore feelings on his Konoha emblem sleeves. Kakashi couldn't remember the last time he ever cried about anything. Every now and then, a particularly memorable mission left him at a loss for words, too choked up by the bitter taste of victory and the acrid taste of death. Kakashi never had the luxury to cry the way Iruka-sensei did.

Just like the impact of the chunin's words, Kakashi found himself affected by Iruka's glistening gaze, where the smallest glint of disbelief waded there. The paler man sucked in a breath, unbelievably transfixed by the man before him. It was getting difficult to breathe and difficult to blink. Despite the heavy robes shrouding his body, the mask on his face, and the eye-patch over his left eye, Kakashi felt more exposed than ever before.

The heat of Iruka's arm managed to spread from Kakashi's fingertips throughout him like wildfire, into the junction of his wrist, up his arm and to the rest of his body. The same heat warmed the air, permeating from Iruka's slack form. Was this some sort of jutsu, to be such a warm-blooded creature? Kakashi had to wonder, because he was a mammal yet never burned with such intensity. Slowly, he lowered their arms, but he didn't let go, too fascinated with the connection made at the contact of their skin.

At long last, Iruka muttered, "Of course I'm right," while dabbing away a few more unsuccessful tear drops. He didn't know what to think, his mind going blank after such a strong wave of sadness. The feelings were accumulating, ever since his day began, but he never expected to make an outburst like that. He was only so grateful that he didn't break down during class time, but breaking down in front of Kakashi certainly had to be a thousand times worse.

Iruka closed his eyes and, with a deep breath, managed to subdue himself. When he looked up again, Kakashi was staring at him in a strange way.

"What…?"

Kakashi couldn't explain why, but he smiled. When Iruka stared at him in bewilderment, he found a breathy laugh escaping him. Iruka blushed but smiled, nonetheless, and was somehow infected with the same inexplicable affliction. He too laughed until, eventually, the two laughed together. Kakashi's laugh was strong but low, and Iruka's was harsh but bright. Suddenly, everything was funny and Kakashi, who never responded with more than an insincere grin, felt at ease watching the inspiration of his laughter.

What he felt didn't go away, not even when the laughter died down, and Kakashi found himself more engrossed with watching Iruka than ever before. Maybe he'd never understand why his ninken were so attached to the man, or why other shinobi like Yamato and Shizune were so quick to defend him, but what he felt in his chest was unlike any injury he suffered in battle. This was exhilarating, making that muscle in his chest beat just a little faster, and all without having to kill another human being. Then, when Iruka's laughter faded to a whimper which died down into a smile that flickered with doubt, it was something of a challenge for him to see how he could comfort the younger shinobi, again.

"You still grieve, more than most, for Tsunade-sama."

"I guess I do, Kakashi-san," Iruka admitted softly.

"Mm…" Kakashi grumbled, thoughtfully. "You're so busy making sure that everyone else is okay that you forget to take care of yourself." Iruka didn't respond but he blushed again, and that was all the verification Kakashi needed. "You shouldn't have come to work today."

"I had no choice. I may not like the elders' decision, but Konoha needs all the educated pre-genin it can get right now. The shinobi shortage is extensive, and I would rather teach my class than pull a substitute from the regular ranks." Then Iruka paused, regarding Kakashi curiously. "I thought you, being the Rokudaime, would have known that everyone had been ordered to return to work today."

"No," Kakashi shrugged, lifting his brow, "I had no clue." He was clueless but not surprised. This was the sort of undermining he expected from the elders and the council as a whole. Where did one go to discuss these things, anyway? It's not like they stopped by his office. Did they expect him to go to their chambers? Where were their chambers, anyway? Was he supposed to call for a meeting? Kakashi didn't know, and didn't really want to know, either, but if the council thought they could make decisions without his Hokage Seal of Approval, they were tragically mistaken.

"Kakashi-san?"

"Mm?"

"Do you plan on letting go of my arm, anytime soon?" Iruka asked in a docile tone, smiling weakly.

Instead of letting go, Kakashi's firm grasp grew firmer, running his fingers playfully up and down, rubbing over the bony ends of Iruka's wrist. He expected the chunin to grow agitated and annoyed, because he was teasing him. Instead, Iruka reacted in a strange way, growing flustered and blushing madly by the second. "You're not going to poke me again, are you?" he asked suspiciously.

Iruka's face went red, "I'll try not to, Kakashi-san."

Slowly, Kakashi let go of Iruka, regretting it the very moment they parted. That link was disconnected, and Kakashi grew cold. Without thinking, Kakashi stepped back a bit, placing the palms of his hands against Iruka's shoulders. He ignored the look of confusion on Iruka's face, the way the man's eyes followed his every move. Kakashi mentally cursed himself for what he was doing. He was always appalled with how Iruka made him act in ways he'd have himself hospitalized for. Maybe the ultimate attraction to Umino Iruka was his unconscious ability to manipulate everyone around him. If that was the case, Iruka was a better shinobi than Kakashi gave him credit for.  
Before he could talk himself out of it, Kakashi pulled Iruka forward, capturing the man in an awkward embrace. It was another attempt at being more human. He could sense the shock in Iruka's still form, but he wouldn't let go, holding him closer. Kakashi could be a caring Hokage, if he tried really really hard. He even felt a strange and foreign sense of accomplishment, when Iruka's rigid form went lax and eased into his amateur embrace. Iruka's temple brushed up against his shoulder, and Kakashi could feel that familiar heat seep into his covered neck. He reached up, holding Iruka's head in the palm of his gloved hand.

Kakashi saw Iruka's hand move upward and thought that the Academy teacher might go back on his word and jab him again, before that tan hand, still covered in bits of chalk, settled against his back. The pressure was shocking, like sparks of lightning, but it was electricity Kakashi couldn't pull away from, and that was exhilarating.

"Thank you." Iruka's gentle voice vibrated throughout his entire body.

"You're welcome," Kakashi said, stumped to find anything else to say. He felt a sense of validity, when Iruka thanked him. He momentarily forgot he was the Hokage of an entire village and a shinobi altogether. Just being human wasn't so bad. He liked to torment the other man, but it wasn't Kakashi's style to trouble Iruka when he was already torturing himself. Standing there, caring for Iruka the way a compassionate Hokage would, forced Kakashi to realize that comforting the chunin was just as equally gratifying.

In the silence, Kakashi could hear the distant sound of children playing. Iruka's class, no doubt. He'd seen a few of them on his way over, but the pre-genin were too busy playing shinobi to actually act like real ones and notice the Hokage landing on the roof of their classroom.

Iruka's head shifted sideways, so Kakashi readjusted his hold. He looked down and grinned, satisfied with how effective he was at making Iruka feel better. He felt less awkward now, as though he'd done this before. "…Lunch break is almost over."

"I can stop by Ichiraku's and get some takeout, if you'd like," Kakashi quickly offered, pulled from his reverie.

"No, that's alright." Iruka appeared surprised, but he declined just as quickly. "I-I wasn't feeling very hungry today." Kakashi nodded, understanding why Iruka wouldn't be hungry. The younger man was clearly plagued by grief. There was nothing more important to Kakashi than duty but, were he the chunin, he would have skipped out on coming to work and left instructions for a substitute to give endless amounts of pop quizzes before the day's end.

"Are you sure?" Kakashi found himself asking, without reason. If Iruka wasn't hungry then he wasn't hungry, so why keep asking?

"Yes," Iruka nodded, wearing content on his face, a return to normality Kakashi preferred.

"I'm sure, but, thank you."

"Don't mention it." Kakashi really didn't want Iruka to mention it, to anyone. No matter how many times Naruto whined that he was too worn out from training to get his own meals, he never caved to the stupid blonde's begging. Kakashi did nothing for no one, so long as the person in need had two arms and two legs and, even then, many shinobi who lost a limb in battle went on to lead relatively normal and assistant-free lives. Kakashi didn't help anyone, unless their life was in danger. Maybe he could argue that Iruka would die from starvation if he hadn't offered…

"I mentioned that break is almost ending, Kakashi-san, because class is about to resume. Is this a social visit?" Kakashi frowned, disappointed when Iruka pulled away. He quickly brushed it aside, giving the sensei a crinkled-eye smile.

"Maa…not exactly," Kakashi said mischievously, fearing Iruka's suspicious gaze. "I had an epiphany, earlier today," he began, pocketing his hands.

"An epiphany," Iruka muttered, one dark, thick brow lifting into his hairline. "What was this epiphany about?" the chunin asked, despite his skepticism.

"It's not as if I was lounging about, hiding from the elders, until the Hokage ceremony ended," Kakashi insisted, but it didn't look like Iruka believed that either. "I had a lot of time to think yesterday, about what it means to be Hokage."

"It means," Iruka grumbled, his eyes traveling upward, gazing from the dark burgundy stitching pattern of Kakashi's dress wrap, to the even blood red mask covering his face, "leading an entire nation, the Hidden Leaf village. It means putting Konoha first and sacrificing personal well-being, to protect your people. You have to be willing to compromise with the shinobi world; otherwise, nothing can be accomplished, and even when people expect you to charge into battle first, the Hokage must be critical and tactful about their decisions. Most of all," Iruka finished pointedly, "a Hokage must be as compassionate as he is strong."

"I was with you all the way up until that last part."

Iruka rolled his eyes. "You were saying something about an epiphany?"

"Right…" Kakashi mused, but his thoughts were jumbled. If Pakkun brought up the responsibilities of a Hokage that Kakashi was trying to avoid, then Iruka just mentioned parts of being a Hokage that Kakashi hadn't even considered. Suddenly being a leader that could compare to the Hokages before him seemed an impossible feat. "There are a lot of responsibilities, as Hokage, that aren't all as obvious as assigning missions. I know that sounds unforgivably ignorant," he added because of the amusement in Iruka's eyes, "but I honestly thought being Hokage meant I could just do whatever I wanted, and people had to follow my orders."

"How unfortunate for you, Kakashi-san," Iruka muttered, not an ounce of sincerity in his voice.

"I know," Kakashi sighed, regardless. "Turns out there are piles and piles of paperwork a Hokage has to fill out… not to mention meetings, and then there are public appearances. You have to admit, not even the strongest, most valiant shinobi could ever be prepared to take on the role of a Hokage."  
Iruka blinked. "You really are unbelievable, Kakashi-san."

"Thank you," Kakashi smiled, "but despite all my greatness, it would seem that I'm in need of assistance. So…how about it?"

"Eh? How about what?" Iruka asked sourly, his face twisted in confusion.

Kakashi braced himself, since asking for help was never something he did well. Being self-sufficient and self-reliant was all Kakashi ever wanted to be, which was why it was easier to force his ninken to do his work rather than ask some chunin to help him be a competent Hokage. Iruka was staring at him, patiently, when the words fell from his mouth. "Be my assistant."

"Kakashi-san," Iruka gasped. The Hokage smiled behind his mask, certain that the disbelief in Iruka's eyes was a good thing. Maybe Iruka felt honored. Perhaps his ninken were right, and Iruka would have willingly offered up his services from the get-go. Who wouldn't want the privilege of assisting the Hokage, anyway? You couldn't get any closer to top tier than taking top tier's notes and scheduling top tier's meetings. Iruka was a chunin and a low-level one at that. Of course he'd say 'Yes'.

"No."

"What?"

"I said 'No', Kakashi-san. That's N-O…I know, an accomplished jonin like yourself isn't used to hearing the word, but no… I respectfully decline your offer," and with that, Iruka walked away, returning to his desk. Kakashi watched him go, but he was unable to grasp the chunin's decision.

"What do you mean by 'No'?" he asked, like there was any other definition for the two-letter word.

Iruka had to stare in disbelief. "I mean no, Kakashi-san. I decline. I don't want to be your assistant—no way, no how. Is that clear enough for you?" he asked haughtily, pressing his hands against his desk.

Kakashi frowned. "Why wouldn't you want to be my assistant?"

"Why would I want to be your assistant?" Iruka counter-argued.

The jonin searched for reasons but came up empty. "I asked first."

Iruka rolled his eyes, because arguing with Kakashi was like arguing with a child. It was almost as though one of his students had stayed behind during break just to pester him…but then said student took it upon himself to help ease the hardship of Tsunade's passing, holding him when he could no longer control his emotions. Iruka blushed, recalling the way he practically collapsed into Kakashi's embrace. He never thought Kakashi would be that kind.

Iruka rubbed his eyes again to make sure they weren't even remotely damp, otherwise, his students would never stop asking questions about why their sensei had been crying. Iruka didn't think he could get any redder, thinking of how he practically sobbed on Kakashi's shoulder. No wonder the jonin thought he was weak, and that frustrated him more than anything else. So he looked towards his Hokage, a defiant gleam in his eyes. "You want to know why I won't work for you."

"If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't have asked," Kakashi sighed lazily.

"That's why," Iruka frowned. "That's why I can't work for you. You don't respect me."

Kakashi rolled his eyes, trying to hide his astonishment. "You refuse to be my assistant because you think I don't respect you?"

"I don't think, I know," Iruka replied in a dangerous tone.

"I respect you."

Iruka scoffed, "No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"No you don't."

"Yes I do."

"You think of me as just some naïve, low-level chunin that worries too much and complains about everything!" Iruka exclaimed, his arms falling to his sides.

Kakashi grew even more confused than before. "Well…aren't you?"

Iruka's jaw dropped, appalled. "I can't believe you actually thought…" he didn't know who he was angrier at, Kakashi or himself, for thinking there was an ounce of sensitivity in the steely eyed man lounging before him. Swallowing what was left of his pride, Iruka straightened out his vest and smiled coldly.

"Well, Hokage-sama, it was an honor to have you here in my classroom, but seeing as my classes are about resume I think it best that you leave. You should go, before my students get worked up over seeing such an esteemed figure up close and personal."

Kakashi cringed, not knowing what pained him more: the coldness of Iruka's smile or the icy glare in his eyes. Iruka's thunderous steps caused Kakashi to flinch.

"Allow me to escort you to the exit you're most accustomed to," the chunin mocked, pointing towards the window. "Have a nice day."

"Iruka-sensei—"

"Please leave."

The chunin had resorted to his official "sensei tone", which, as Kakashi knew, was never a good thing. He found himself obeying Iruka's wishes, even when he could refuse to leave and there wasn't much the chunin could do about it. Iruka wouldn't actually retaliate on a Hokage, would he…would he? Kakashi didn't like this, and not just because Iruka refused to be his assistant. He could hire someone to be his assistant; a woman, probably, who'd spend every waking moment trying to understand him and get a look at his face. No, Kakashi quickly stripped the mental suggestion from his mind. He wouldn't be able to acquaint himself with some infuriating stranger, not when he already knew Iruka. Half the work was already done.

Kakashi edged towards the window, facing the shorter man, while Iruka stood with one hand planted firmly on his hip. His other hand still hovered in the air, pointing to the way he expected Kakashi to leave.

"Iruka-sensei, hear me out."

"I don't want to hear you out, Kakashi-san. I would like you to leave."

"I'm the Rokudaime," Kakashi said defiantly. "You can't refuse me."

"Are you serious?" Iruka scoffed. "You may be the Rokudaime, Kakashi-san, but that doesn't entitle you to do or say whatever you please; and yes, I can." Tired with arguing, Iruka moved to leave him at the window. He had more important things to deal with than egotistical jonins who weren't used to the word 'No'.

Any minute now, a class of twenty kids would come bustling back into the room, and Iruka needed to catch them off-guard with assignments and a lecture before he lost them to the afternoon lull. "Find someone else," he shot over his shoulder.

"Listen," Kakashi reached out and grabbed Iruka's arm, causing the younger man to stumble backwards. One moment saw him glancing at the clock above the classroom door and, in this moment, he was transfixed, staring deep into the gaze of one steely grey eye. "There isn't anyone else, Iruka-sensei. You know Shizune-san left this morning."

"I know…I'm beginning to see why."

"She said you occasionally helped Tsunade with her workload, so I figured you could assist me the same way she assisted the Godaime. People say you're exceptional at this kind of work."

"What kind of work would that be?" he asked skeptically, but it at least meant Iruka was listening to him.

It gave Kakashi hope, so he explained, "Filing paperwork, taking notes, keeping track of my meetings and scheduling my appointments." He added as an afterthought, "I need help overseeing the reconstruction of the village. You could help me rebuild Konohagakure."

Iruka looked absolutely helpless, torn with indecision. "I-I couldn't…I have desk duty, Kakashi-san, in the missions room and I work here, at the Academy. I wouldn't have time—"

"We can make the time," Kakashi encouraged, squeezing the arm in his grip, "and I'll pay you, too, a lot more than what you earn at the Academy or on desk duty. I imagine you need the money; otherwise, you wouldn't be an Academy teacher and working shifts."

"Some people do things because they enjoy it, Kakashi-san," Iruka explained weakly. “You of all people know that.”

"Your apartment's not a particularly nice one. You could earn enough to move into a nicer place."

"Are you bribing me, Kakashi-san?"

"Yes, Iruka-sensei; I'm bribing you," Kakashi admitted, not at all concerned with how illegal the act of bribing was within the Fire Country. He could tell that Iruka thought he was just making jokes, but he wasn't. This was too important to the jonin, who was beginning to feel suffocated by his lack of options. He didn't want to fail the village, he didn't want to fail his predecessors, and he didn't want to fail the memory of his father. Maybe, just this once, he could put away his pride for the well-being of the village. "I trust you to do everything right, Iruka-sensei. I need you." Kakashi relented in his grip, but he couldn't let go just yet.

He could see Iruka mulling it over in his mind and taking his plea into consideration. He didn't want to hear the word 'No', not because he couldn't accept it, but because he didn't know what he would do if Iruka refused him again.

"Why didn't you just say this before?" Iruka sighed.

"I didn't think…about it." Kakashi didn't think it would make a difference whether he validated Iruka's qualifications. Everyone believed Iruka was the best shinobi worker, just as everyone agreed that Kakashi was the best shinobi fighter, and Kakashi was not ignorant of this fact. "Does this mean you'll do it, Iruka-sensei?"

"You mean will I help you?" A small, challenging grin graced Iruka's features. Kakashi leaned forward, his eye narrowed closely, but Iruka refused to back down. His face stayed inches from his own, to where he could feel the hot breath of Iruka's parted lips hit the cloth of his mask.

Kakashi groaned. He couldn't believe he was submitting to an Academy teacher. "Iruka-sensei, will you help me…please, assist me in the responsibilities of being the Rokudaime."

"When you ask so politely, how can I possibly say no?"

"I don't know," Kakashi said, eyeing the younger man wearily. Iruka's small grin turned into another gentle smile. He reached up and playfully punched Kakashi's shoulder. Kakashi couldn't help but also smile, relieved more than anything else.

"Then, I accept," he said, "and we'll work out the salary, later."

"Of course," Kakashi smiled, but he was slowly dying inside, not knowing what he was getting himself into. Still, convincing Iruka had to count for something, and the chunin was no longer upset. It was remarkable, how many emotions the younger man went through. It was something short of astonishing and, if Kakashi was honest with himself, he enjoyed it, just a bit.

"Kakashi-san," Iruka whispered, staring at his arm. "You can let go now." Kakashi let go, as though burned from the touch. He reached over to rub down Iruka's arm, as though it were his own, but stopped when the chunin beat him to it.

"Sorry," he breathed, mentally struggling with why he felt the need to tend to Iruka's arm when the man was at least capable of handling it himself.

"You shouldn't apologize, Kakashi-san," Iruka smirked. "It's a sign of weakness." Kakashi's eye went wide, his gaze lingering on Iruka. The Academy teacher had turned his own words against him. Kakashi's defenses had fallen. He apologized to Iruka, and he meant it. The last time he remembered apologizing to anyone was to the teams he had failed in his lifetime.

Iruka gazed at him with mirth in his eyes. Kakashi couldn't stop himself from staring at the other man as he amused himself at his expense. He had the broadest smile Kakashi had ever seen or cared to even notice.

Then a loud, all-encompassing ring rippled throughout the classroom. The Academy bell rang and, not a second later, over a dozen children were bursting through the classroom door and invading the room. Kakashi looked to them, unfazed, but the sound of feet and boisterous laughter startled Iruka. He quickly moved away.

"All right, everyone! Get to your seats. Any rough-housing, and I'll have you doing double homework tonight." There was a collective groan from the children, half of which were not yet in their seats. Kakashi ignored them, for the most part, more interested in how Iruka functioned as their teacher and speculating over the various forms of torture Iruka occasionally put the brats through.

"Yes, Ani-chan?"

A little girl with spiky brown hair shooting from the sides of her head lowered her raised hand. "Who is he?" she asked, pointing in Kakashi's direction. Thanks to one heathen child, twenty pairs of heathen child eyes were suddenly on him. Kakashi felt he was being dissected by a swarm of flesh eating crows. Iruka turned to look at him as well, with that familiar soft smile on his face.

"Everyone," he announced loudly, "this is…an acquaintance of mine. His name is—"

"Hey, I know who that guy is!" exclaimed a boy with bandages on both sides of his dirty face. He shot out of his seat. "That's the Rokudaime! I know it is!"

"Are you sure, Tsuki-kun?" Ani asked, yelling from across the classroom.

"Of course I am, you dweeb…remember?" He addressed everyone, "He was the guy who blew up at the Hokage ceremony!"  
The class turned from gawking at Tsuki to gawking at Kakashi once again. He had to wonder how his day had gone from bad to worse, to end up the subject of a pre-genin class. He should have jumped out of the window when he had the chance, and now it was too late. The little twerps cooed and sighed in awe and fascination. He could sense their predatory gleam, and expected each and every one of them to jump from their seats and charge him at any moment.

"Now, now class. I want you all to remain in your seats; and yes, I just read your mind again." The class gave another collective groan. Kakashi found himself slowly moving closer and closer to Iruka, just in case the kids chose to defy his orders.

"Yes, this is Kakashi-sama, our new Hokage. Please, greet him with respect."

"Good afternoon, Hokage-sama," said the entire class.

Kakashi put on a brave face, now that he was standing beside Iruka. "Yo," he waved. The class burst into giggles and laughter, as each pudgy, crusty face smiled stupidly…all but one. Kakashi widened his eye a bit more, staring back at a wimpy looking boy sitting dead center of the entire class. Not only was he not smiling, but a mean scowl managed to twist and contort every inch of his face. Familiar hazel eyes glared at him, housed beneath a mane of wild silver hair. It was that boy, the very same boy Iruka comforted during Tsunade's funeral. Like the day before, Kakashi was taken aback by the mysterious hatred in the boy's eyes.

"Yes, Ani-chan?" Iruka took another question from the girl.

"Iruka-sensei, can we ask the Hokage-sama questions?"

Immediately, ten more hands shot into the air.

"No, no…we have much to do this afternoon." Iruka turned slightly, giving him a knowing grin. Kakashi mouthed his appreciation.

"Luckily, everyone, Kakashi-sama has offered to return here tomorrow to give us an in-class demonstration on chakra control."

"AWESOME!" some boy yelled, followed by the words amazing, neat, unbelievable, and yosh.

The class cheered, Iruka smiled happily, and Kakashi's face sunk into itself with great depression. He looked towards Iruka who, grinning like the backstabbing bastard he was, gave Kakashi a thumb's up. Retaliation was one thing, but the mere thought of having to spend any part of his day demonstrating for little kids who would only go home, imitate him, and fall from their ceilings, was nearly maddening. The Academy teacher clapped his hands together, while Kakashi wished for the man's very gruesome end.

"So, tomorrow, you'll be able to ask Kakashi-sama anything you'd like to know about what it takes to be a shinobi. Anymore questions before we begin the lesson?"

"Yeah, I have a question," said the glaring boy before Iruka even got a chance to call on him. His eyes turned to Iruka, but he shot a finger out towards Kakashi. "What the hell is he still doing here, anyway?"

The class gasped and went silent, and Kakashi could have sworn he heard a pencil drop from someone's desk. The children sitting at lower platforms turned to look upwards, and the children sitting on higher platforms simply looked down to stare at the silver haired boy with the permanent scowl on his face.

"Take!" Iruka hissed, his temple pulsing with anger. He was absolutely appalled that one of his students would accost the Hokage even if, deep down, he knew Kakashi deserved all kinds of verbal backlash. "Show the Rokudaime some respect!"

"Sorry, Iruka-sensei," he grumbled, his voice trailing off. The boy named Take went back to silently staring at Kakashi, as if he'd somehow wronged him, in some way. It effectively disturbed the Hokage, but he managed to ignore it with a built-in indifference mechanism.

"Everyone, take out the assignments you were working on before the break and, when you're finished, we'll move on to reading up on tomorrow's lesson." Iruka's class went to work, and their teacher returned to his desk. Kakashi followed behind him, noting how the chunin actually took a seat this time. He pulled out a red pen, before looking back up towards the jonin. "Is there something else you wanted, Kakashi-san?" he asked quietly.

"An explanation would be nice," Kakashi suggested.

Iruka clasped his hands together. "Consider this part of your payment, to me, for agreeing to be your assistant," he offered, before adding, "The students are absolutely thrilled by the idea—they might actually remember the lesson, this time. And you can consider this a public appearance, since you're the Hokage now," Iruka shrugged.

"This just might be my last public appearance," Kakashi grimaced, "if you get what I mean."

Iruka shook his head, amused by Kakashi's morbid sense of humor.

He looked towards the man again and felt a shudder of sympathy when Kakashi looked so pitiful. His mane of silver hair even managed to droop. "Think of it as practice, Kakashi-san," he offered, returning to his work.

Kakashi sulked, his eye fixed on Take. The boy still glared at him rather than studied like the rest of his class. "This seems more like retribution, to me," he frowned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed! ^_^


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruka and Kakashi set out for an all around, surely pleasant, demonstration for Iruka's class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the overdue chapter update. I...Okay, it's a combo of doing other things and playing the Sims. I hate myself...but I really love playing the Sims 3. I can't help it.

"You volunteered to demonstrate chakra control for Iruka-sensei's class?" Pakkun asked.

Kakashi shook his head, adamantly so. "Iruka-sensei held a kunai to my throat. I had no other choice but to obey his wishes," he drawled indolently.

"Don't be ridiculous," Iruka scoffed, appearing from the hallway. Pakkun and Kakashi spotted the chunin, their eyes following him as he picked up two boxes filled to the hilt with paperwork. "I did no such thing, Pakkun. You shouldn't listen to anything Kakashi-san says. He's deranged," he sighed happily, carrying the boxes to his desk. He placed one on the table top, one on the floor, and heaved a tremendous sigh.

"Calling the Hokage deranged is treason, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka turned with a scroll in his hand. He looked down towards the jonin sitting lazily on the floor of his living room, resting bent knee against his coffee table. "That's not treason. How do you shamelessly make things up like that?"

"Trust me, young pup. It's his god given talent," Pakkun groused, his head hanging from over the couch. "Shall I provide an example for him, Kakashi?"

Kakashi's eye drooped. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"I side with whoever keeps me from starving to death," the pug huffed, glaring at the back of his master's head. "Besides, Iruka-sensei probably understands the laws of Konoha a lot better than you do. He is a teacher, after all. He has to keep this sort of knowledge in mind, so he can pass it on to his students."

"Thank you, Pakkun," Iruka smiled, "and thank you again for putting everything together. It looks as though Lady Tsunade left her office in a messier state than I remember," he muttered, looking between the two boxes in confusion. Together, they made not even half of all the paperwork still piled up in the Hokage office. He stopped by there, before his desk duty shift, and found Kakashi's dogs waiting for him with everything put together in neat little stacks.

"I just wish Kakashi hadn't jumbled everything up for you."

"What—?"

"I'm sorry about that. At least he has you, now, so he'll never touch another piece of paper again." Pakkun beamed.

"Wait a minute," Kakashi turned his head, frowning angrily.

"What exactly did you tell him?" he whispered.

"We told him the truth," Pakkun hummed, louder than all get out.

"We told him that you, unfamiliar with Tsunade-sama's methods, simply put everything together regardless of what paperwork was more important."

"Really, Kakashi-san. You shouldn't have done that," Iruka murmured, his fingers flipping through papers like a deck of cards. "If you're not sure how to go about filing everything away, you should not have touched anything at all. If you're going to hire an assistant, then let them do their job. Now, I have to go through everything and fix your mistakes." The chunin sighed tiredly.

Kakashi rubbed his forehead, agitated by the slander being done to his good name. "Maa…I resent this," he whined. "I'm being unjustly accused by a creature that spends half his day chasing his own tail." Kakashi gave the pug another threatening stare, but Pakkun remained confidently smug.

"Don't blame Pakkun, Kakashi-san," Iruka warned, taking a seat at his desk. "I've heard things from Naruto and Sakura. Let's face it, you ruined your credibility some time ago." He went to work, setting aside the scroll in his hand to focus on the few papers pulled from the box. Iruka wanted to measure the level of Kakashi's unintentional tampering.

"Ne? And how is that, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi asked lazily, leaning back against the same cushion Pakkun had been resting on all morning. Iruka glanced over his shoulder, addressing the jonin with little more than a disapproving frown.

"You were chronically late when Team 7 met for training and missions. You had them perform mindless tasks that usually ended in the destruction of private and public property. Naruto always complained about how you lazed about on some tree, reading those filthy Icha Icha novels, while they practiced—and by the way…" Iruka swiveled around, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Don't even think about stepping into my classroom again with one of those filthy books on your person."

Kakashi shrugged, his hands flying into the air. "I guess I won't be attending your class today, Iruka-sensei. I couldn't possibly part with my beloved Icha Icha."

"You can and you will," Iruka supplied sharply, returning to the papers on his desk. "I don't believe this," he muttered, "this page and that page go together, but where's the rest of the document?" He scratched his cheek, puzzled. Kakashi gazed on thoughtfully, as Iruka's shoulders hunched forward. It was a reaction the chunin did subconsciously, whenever the task at hand became particularly trying; usually, while attempting to decipher some hastily scribbled homework…or mission report.

Every so often, Iruka sighed, scoffed, or made some other sound that expressed his annoyance, while making separate piles for specific papers. Kakashi might have sympathized with the younger shinobi, if not so irritated by how easily his ninken had led the man astray. They actually told Iruka that he caused that tornado of a mess? So being less than meticulous when it came to punctuality, strictness, or any form of encouragement had somehow tarnished his credibility? He was only human…or, at least, trying to be. Who did he look like, Maito Gai?

Kakashi fought a shudder.

"Honestly, Kakashi-san…I think that if it hadn't been for Pakkun, and the rest of your dogs, I might have changed my mind about being your personal assistant. They told me they spent all day in those offices, cleaning up your mess. Poor boys…"

Kakashi reached back, gripping the first paw he could find, and crushed it within a balled-up fist. Pakkun gave a pained howl, jumping from the couch when Kakashi let go. Iruka swiveled again, at the sound.

"What happened?" he panicked, looking to where Kakashi sat. Though the jonin looked more relaxed than ever before, he noticed the small pug once resting on his couch was now circling beneath his coffee table, limping on his floor. He put two and two together and looked to Kakashi with livid disbelief.

"Kakashi!"

"That's Kakashi-san, to you," the jonin grumbled, pushing his spine against the couch.

"Really? Was that necessary?" Pakkun growled, whimpering whenever he tried to walk on his left paw. He trudged away from the lethal shinobi sitting on the floor, his head hanging low.

"Resorting to violence, are we? What a child."

"I have every right to punish my ninken, when they start acting up," Kakashi explained coldly, which did little to wipe the anger and disapproval from Iruka's face. Iruka looked down and found Pakkun staring up at him, pain brimming in his eyes. The chunin cooed with sympathy, to which Kakashi couldn't help but roll his eyes at. "He's faking, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka shot him a glare. "Don't even…" He scooted his seat back, allowing the small dog to leap onto his lap. The Copy Nin didn't think he could get anymore annoyed. Pakkun sat himself on Iruka's legs, facing Kakashi. "I don't mean to baby you, Pakkun," the chunin stated, rubbing between the pug's ears, then gently down the rest of his body, "but are you alright?"

"I'll be okay, I guess," he pouted. Kakashi felt physically ill at such a sappy sight, as Pakkun practically pushed into the palm of Iruka's hand. It was maddening. The jonin didn't harm his dogs, not to the point where they couldn't walk— nothing but the playful rough-housing they were used to. He knew how to reserve his strength, so it wasn't a matter of hurting Pakkun without realizing it. No…he knew Pakkun was faking; especially now, as the dog sneakily snickered at him. Iruka had gone back to separating papers with one hand, while the other hand mindlessly caressed his ninken. "He's a slave driver, Iruka-sensei," Pakkun said dryly, oozing with self-satisfaction.

"You shouldn't be so hard on your dogs, Kakashi. They do so much for you. Don't force them to clean up your messes, either."

"They are ninken," Kakashi stated harshly. "They are trained to deal with more important things than some messy room. In fact, it's an insult that I was forced to assign them such a trivial task."

"I wouldn't consider it trivial, if it's something not even you would do, Kakashi-san."

"I'm the Hokage. I shouldn't have to," Kakashi barked back in his usual, careless monotone.

Pakkun looked to Iruka, awaiting his response.

"Then you shouldn't make the mess," Iruka rebuked, acidly. Pakkun quickly abandoned his comfortable position, in order to follow Kakashi and Iruka's back and forth squabble. "As for your dogs—"

"They're ninken," Kakashi corrected. Pakkun looked from Kakashi and back towards Iruka.

"They're not some robotic breed of canine, Kakashi-san. They get tired and wounded and, sometimes, they need as much rest as the shinobi they work for."

Pakkun looked to Kakashi. "They've rested quite enough. When ninken are trained to perform one skill they should be out there on the field, performing that one skill."

Pakkun looked to Iruka but nearly fell off the chunin's lap when the man pivoted in his seat again. "What skill would that be, Kakashi-san, killing?" Pakkun's gaze switched between the jonin and chunin, unable to resist comparing the exasperation in their glares. Kakashi appeared more determined to get his point across, while Iruka looked more worried that his point didn't seem to be getting across, at all.

"No. Fighting, Iruka-sensei. They were born to fight. They were raised to fight. They were trained to fight, so you can't expect them to just willingly give that up."

"Uh…I don't mind," Pakkun said feebly, but he went unheard.

"They sacrificed everything for this village. They should be allowed to do whatever they want." Pakkun was beginning to think the two men weren't really talking about ninken anymore, but that fact became less of a concern when the gentle hand petting him, ever so gently, grasped his body with a bone crushing grip. Pakkun heaved for much needed oxygen.

"You don't have to tell me about sacrifices, Kakashi-san. You're not the only shinobi out there who's sacrificed their fair share for the good of the village."

"I can't breathe—!"

"Yeah, well…some sacrifice more than others."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that some sacrifice more than others. Must I repeat myself again, Iruka-sensei?"

"Please—!"

"Must you be so bad-mannered?"

"I'm simply stating facts," the jonin groaned angrily. "That's why we have a system of ranks within shinobi villages: genin, chunin, and jonin. Last time I checked, I didn't see some low-level chunin nearly lose his neck on some A-rank mission."

"Ooh!" Iruka huffed. "I've completed plenty of A-rank missions, one of which you were lead on if I remember correctly, so don't boast to me about how dangerous they are just to sound superior."

"I don't go around boasting about how dangerous my missions are," Kakashi shot back, "and, other than that one instance, since when have you ever completed an A-rank mission? I never took you for a liar, Iruka-sensei."

"I am not lying!" Iruka exclaimed, absolutely flustered. "I've completed twelve A-rank missions, and that's more than proficient for a low-level chunin like me."

"…Twelve?"

"Twelve!"

Kakashi scoffed, lazily looking away. "Please…that's nothing compared to my count."

"298," Iruka said sharply. Kakashi stared at him, alarmed.

"You've completed 298 A-rank missions," the chunin stated more calmly.

"How do you know that?" Kakashi asked, suspicious, but his voice had fallen to a more civil tone.

"I know that because I've seen your records in the shinobi data book. I'm sure a skilled jonin like you wouldn't care to read up on other shinobi," Iruka scowled, "but I like knowing if the jonin assigned to my former students is a capable shinobi. It's a shame they don't also put down whether a shinobi is a half-crazed genius with a death wish."

"IRUKA! YOU'RE KILLING ME!"

"Oh!" The chunin quickly let go of the ninken in his grip, and Pakkun all but heaved over the man's thigh. His tongue curled out, lapping up the fresh taste of breathable air. "Sorry about that, Pakkun," he dared Kakashi to challenge his apology, to which the jonin threw his hands up defensively. "I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?"

"N-no…not a-at all," Pakkun coughed. When Iruka's gentle hand soothed out the fur on his back and rubbed down each side of his belly, all was forgiven. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

Earth pounding knocks drummed their way through the wall of Iruka's apartment. "Keep it down over there! It's too early in the morning—some people are actually trying to sleep!" An obnoxious voice, muffled by layers of wall, accompanied the pounding. Kakashi looked to Iruka, interested in the chunin's reaction. He honestly didn't think Iruka could get any redder, but the other man was absolutely bathed in embarrassment. Iruka whispered a small apology, before returning to his task. He could never deliberately yell at another apartment.

"…I could go over there and kill him."

"Please, Kakashi-san… Don't joke about killing my neighbor."

“I wasn't joking.”

With his head resting in his hand, Iruka went back to his paperwork, Kakashi went back to watching Iruka, and Pakkun pawed at every odd bit of paper dangling from the edge of Iruka's desk. The argument, however, fell flat, completely forgotten.

Kakashi groaned softly, leaning his head back in a long stretch. He felt the fabric of his mask against his skin and not much else. It was warm here, as it always was, even as the morning dew cooled the air. He looked to his right, at the Hokage robes thrown over the armrest where he used to hang his vest.

He looked in front of him and just off to the side, where his eye-patch lay strewn against the coffee table-top. He found himself taking off the accessory, whenever he could, to give his eye a breather. He was thankful to have already gone "Hiate-ate free" in front of Iruka. Otherwise, he'd never get a chance to take it off...

Now looking towards his left, watching the chunin once more, he couldn't help but recall the evening when Iruka practically forced him to remove his headband. He was returning to the village from a rather gruesome mission that had gone south fast. Whether he actually completed the objective of that particular assignment remained something of a mystery to the Copy Nin, who could barely see the village gates he stumbled upon. It was an important mission, nonetheless, one that dealt with the rebel Mist nins still out there, loyal to the ideology of Uchiha Madara. Without real thought or hesitation, Kakashi used what was left of his strength to jutsu into the center of Iruka's living room, covered with blood. He struggled, briefly, as a shapeless figure moved about trying to tend to his injuries. He recalled Iruka leaning over him and, even then, he argued with the younger man about how to take care of him. Iruka reassured him that he wouldn't take off his mask, only requesting that Kakashi allow him to remove his headband. The rest of that evening was still a blur to the jonin.

True, Kakashi had gone headband-free, dozens of times, in front of his teams, enemies, medic nins, Hokages, and his ninken. Yet he panicked when a worry-weighted Iruka demanded that he let him take it away, only to reveal a Mangekyou Sharingan battling through its last energetic spins. Kakashi felt vulnerable, exposed, and expected a more repulsive response from the chunin.

But it never came.

Iruka laughed lightly, catching the Rokudaime's attention. He searched for the source of Iruka's amusement, finding Pakkun playing some sort of hand game with the few sheets of paper dangling from the younger man's desk. Instead of being annoyed by the constant interruption of paws scratching obsessively on page after page, Iruka only seemed to enjoy the inconsistent presence. Kakashi found it hard to keep a straight face, watching his ninken play a game similar to the ones he used to play with him when he was a kid. Pakkun, with all his skill and prestige, was resorting to child's play. He never acted like this with anyone, not even Naruto.

"Could you not stare at us, Kakashi-san?" Iruka asked bluntly. "It's a bit off-putting."

The jonin shrugged. "I'm simply trying to understand how a chunin, unwilling to disrespect their Hokage one day, can now talk down to him like he's some common villager," Kakashi droned softly.

That playful smile on Iruka's face fell, but he and Pakkun continued to scrape at the same pieces of paper. "You are anything but common, Kakashi-san," Iruka blushed, "and, to answer your question, I tried to incorporate your new title into how I addressed you, but that you cared very little for my efforts was insufferably clear." He continued sarcastically, "I'll never make that mistake again, Kakashi-san. You can be certain of that."

Kakashi smirked.

"So, when's Kakashi doing the demonstration?" Pakkun asked.

"Well…" Iruka looked at the clock on his desk. "Classes start at eight, and it's now twenty minutes passed seven. May I?" Iruka asked politely, with his hands outstretched. Pakkun padded forward, licking at Iruka's fingertips. The chunin laughed.

"Certainly, young pup."

Iruka reached under Pakkun's front legs and picked him up, depositing the ninken pug over his shoulder. The small dog pawed his way further down Iruka's chest, causing the man to laugh again. Kakashi took in the sight of the two being so amicable, no longer as annoyed as he once was. Amusement could be the only word to describe how he felt, while Pakkun whispered things to the side of Iruka's face, causing the chunin to laugh even more but always in the same, soft manner.

"You better not be talking about me," he mused, frowning jokingly. Both Iruka and Pakkun turned to him, smiling innocently.

"Of course not, Kakashi-san," Iruka gave a mischievous grin. "We were musing over how well you'd fair today, up against a class of twenty pre-genin. Maybe you'll see how difficult my job really is."

"Shouldn't be that difficult," Kakashi sighed, shrugging. "They're only pre-genin, after all. I imagine that's twenty pre-genin of the Rookie 9 variation," he rationalized.

"You'll see," Iruka smirked. Kakashi leaned back again, unfazed.

He let his one open eye dance over the ceiling, knowing he had nothing to fear except, perhaps, a lot of questions unrelated to being a shinobi. They might ask him about his eye-patch or his mask, because bratty kids were always curious about things they couldn't see. In all likelihood, Iruka's class wouldn't even remember the demonstration.

"Kakashi-san, the demonstration should only take up half the class time. Would you like to come in after lunch, or would you prefer to come in this morning, with me?"

Iruka stood, pushing his seat beneath his desk. It was a wooden chair, one Kakashi imagined once belong to a full dining set. It was dark oak and expensive looking, but old enough for the wear and tear to have stripped away any of its value. Iruka's apartment just didn't have space for a dining room table or any unnecessary number of chairs. Most likely it was a family hand-me-down, like most of Iruka's furniture seemed to be.

"Kakashi-san?" Kakashi veered his head, giving Iruka a sideways glance. "Are you coming with me, this morning?" he asked again, assuming the jonin had not heard him the first time. The chunin was less sure of himself, his arms hanging uselessly and his hands clenching and unclenching with uncertainty. He couldn't imagine what worried the younger man now but, knowing Iruka, it could be anything.

"Maa…I'd rather get it over with now than wait until later," he sighed, reaching for his eye-patch. "I'm sure something else will crop up later today, and take up even more of my time."

"That reminds me," Iruka turned around, reaching for that unidentified scroll. He untied it and pulled it down, unraveling a myriad of writing separated with check points. "I meant to tell you about this before," Iruka mentioned, pulling it down and holding it up, "but I just set it aside. You must excuse me. I haven't had a rest yet."

"Iruka-sensei, if you're going to be any good to me, you can't be so forgetful," Kakashi said.

Pakkun wagged his tail eagerly, running his droopy eyes over the scroll in Iruka's hands.

"Well, for your information, had you been more thorough in your official takeover, you would have noticed that this scroll was left for you to read upon your arrival. It's a schedule of all your appointments this week," Iruka replied, unraveling the scroll before him.

The chunin jumped back, shutting his eyes tightly and clutching the center of his chest. "Do not sneak up on me like that," he breathed to the intolerable jonin now hovering over him.

Pakkun gave the chunin a long, troubled stare.

Kakashi smiled. "I'm a shinobi, Iruka. You must expect nothing less of me." Iruka eyed him wearily. "What's it say?"

Iruka reached down again, clutching the bottom of the scroll.

"It says you have a meeting with the Head of the Interrogation Taskforce tomorrow, at ten."

"Morino-san," Kakashi nodded slowly. "Oh good. Someone I like."

"Of course. It makes sense that you would like Morino-san. He's just as unconventional as you are." Kakashi chuckled softly, but the brown haired man glanced up and gave the Rokudaime a stern stare. "You'll show up to this meeting on time, yes? In fact, you'll be more than on time. As the Hokage, you should be the first person there." Iruka rolled up the scroll, clasping it once more.

Kakashi frowned. "You didn't read the rest," he sulked, pointing out the obvious.

"I'm your personal assistant now, Kakashi-san," Iruka explained. "I'll read the rest myself, but I want your word that you'll show up to that meeting tomorrow and show up on time."

"Maa…" Kakashi thought briefly before he answered. "No promises."

"Kakashi-san…" Iruka gave him that glistening, brown-eyed stare, one drowning in grief and doubt. It was the same look the younger man gave Naruto whenever the blonde acted less than satisfactory or to the high moral standards of Umino Iruka.

Kakashi swallowed hard, staring down at the chunin with every intention of saying what Iruka wanted to hear. Why, he wasn't sure. Iruka was forgiving enough to have not kicked Kakashi out yet, even when he'd given the Academy teacher more than enough reason to. But Kakashi refused to make another promise he knew he couldn't keep, not since all the promises he ever made and never kept…even if only to Iruka and over something as trivial as punctuality.

"I'll try my best to be there on time," he said, and he meant it.

Both Iruka and Pakkun stared suspiciously at him, but Iruka caved in a lot faster than Pakkun expected him to.

"I guess that's all I can hope for," Iruka grumbled, brushing past Kakashi with Pakkun still hanging over his shoulder. "We should head out now. If the students get there before we do, well…" Iruka shook his head. "I'd rather not say. The endless possibilities are engraved in my memories."

"Surely they aren't that bad," Pakkun encouraged.

Iruka eyed the small dog in bemusement. "They can be very well-behaved, under the right supervision, but when left to their own devices, well… you remember a younger Naruto left to his own devices?" he quirked a brow, causing the ninken to chuckle.

"I have to agree with you there, Iruka-sensei," he said, remembering the countless plots an unsupervised Naruto devised just to get a glimpse beneath his human's mask. None of them were any good, really. "In that case, I remember a younger Kakashi left to his own devices."

"Oh really?" Iruka smirked, reaching for the shinobi vest lying on the kitchen counter. Pakkun jumped down so the chunin could put it on.

"Good luck today, Iruka-sensei. Even with Kakashi around, I'm sure things will go over smoothly."

"You can come along, if you'd like, Pakkun," Iruka offered, zipping up his vest.

"Mm, I guess I could," Pakkun pondered, scratching his chin with the back of his paw. He looked to Iruka again, grinning. "Okay, Iruka-sensei. This could be fun."

"I'm glad you feel that way." The chunin smiled. "You think the others would like to come too? We could make it part of the lesson, since none of my students have ever encountered a ninken summoning before."

Pakkun shook his head in protest. "Maybe some other time, Iruka-sensei," he said. "My brothers aren't used to using their paws to clean walls. They wore themselves out yesterday," he explained, "which is why you haven't heard a peep out of them all night."

Iruka frowned. "They have been awfully quiet." He turned to look down the hallway leading to his bedroom, where seven spirit-broken dogs lay sprawled out over his bed. "They really outdid themselves this time, didn't they?" He looked to Pakkun. "Are you sure you wouldn't want to join them?" he asked, worried that Pakkun might not be getting enough sleep.

Pakkun felt all warm and fuzzy inside, when Iruka-sensei worried over him like that. "I took a nap on your couch."

"Are you sure?" Iruka reached up, pulling the hair band from around his hair. He retied it to where those few loose strands framing his face were tucked back into place. Then Iruka reached across the counter to retrieve his hiate-ate. "I didn't see you get a good night's sleep."

"I could say the same about you, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka blushed, pulling tightly on the knotted cloth. Kakashi tried his hardest, but he couldn't drown out their mindless prattling. He managed to go unnoticed long enough to slip back into his robes. While being nothing but skin and muscle, the garment weighed him down, like two heavy hands pushing on his shoulders. He shrugged into the garment, watching as Iruka took his hair down only to pull it back into pony-tail, with his headband strapped neatly against his forehead.

"I'll catch up with you two, later," Pakkun said. "Someone has to tell them where ya went. Without me, they aren't smart enough to put two and two together," the pug joked.

"Spoiled creatures," Kakashi grumbled, stepping nearer. "Tell them they don't know the meaning of worn out just yet."

"Don't be an ass," Pakkun growled at the jonin.

"Don't listen to him, Pakkun," Iruka leaned forward, briefly rubbing behind Pakkun's ears. "Remember what I said earlier?"

"Of course," Pakkun replied menacingly, glaring at Kakashi.

"He's deranged." With that final declaration, hanging in the air like an indisputable truth, Pakkun scampered off towards Iruka's bedroom. In his departure, he left a rather amused chunin and a more than irritated jonin.

"I could kill him," Kakashi threatened.

Iruka turned on him. "You better not put another finger on him, Kakashi-san."

"Telling your Hokage what to do, Iruka-sensei?" Iruka blushed and backed away, which was the reaction Kakashi expected from the younger man. "As for those worthless animals I call ninken, I meant what I said before." He cast a steely gaze on Iruka. "I can discipline them however I want."

"Certainly, Kakashi-san," Iruka relented, but the scowl on his lips and the defiance in his eyes said something entirely different. "Shall we go now?"

"I don't see why not," Kakashi smiled, turning to leave.

"…Hold on a second!" Iruka grabbed Kakashi's sleeve before he could take two steps away. Unprepared and unusually off-guard, Kakashi stood skillfully still while a suddenly crazed chunin shoved his arms into his robes. He felt an uncommon heat suddenly graze over his cheeks and was thankful, for the umpteenth time, that he wore a mask over his face. Kakashi felt eager fingers ghost over his lower back, prodding his covered flesh, running up and down his skin, and reaching so far out that it felt like Iruka was trying to wrap his arms around him. Kakashi gazed downward, shock having enveloped every fiber of his being, but the chunin in question was consumed by his efforts, until a tan cheek pressed up against Kakashi's chest. Iruka tugged at a hidden pocket sewn into the interior of Kakashi's robes. "I knew it," Iruka hissed, pulling away. Kakashi saw a flash of a green paperback cover fly into the air and into Iruka's hand. Kakashi reached out for it, pitifully, but his eye had already drooped in defeat.

"Shit," he cursed, moping over the lost Icha Icha novel.

"Seems to be your new hiding place," Iruka voiced with haughty satisfaction. "I saw it yesterday, when you were hanging from my classroom window."

"Maa…give that back," Kakashi whined, but he wished he hadn't. The fire in Iruka's eyes had him backing down, before the flames could engulf him.

"What did I say about this," Iruka asked calmly, pinching the book between two fingers and a thumb.

Kakashi reached for the back of his head, bracing himself. "Eh, you said I could do without it?"

"Good, Kakashi-san. You're exactly right." Eyes closed and temple pulsing, Iruka tossed the book over his shoulder. Then a flutter of pages, followed by a pathetic thud, signaled an Icha Icha book falling somewhere in the general vicinity of the room.

"Let's go," the corner of Iruka's mouth twitched. Kakashi thought he might actually cry.

 

* * *

 

 

"Good morning, Iruka-sensei," greeted his class.

"Well, what a surprise!" Iruka beamed, his hands planted securely on his hips. "All twenty of you are in your seats, with your hands in sight, and you said good morning. It's unreal… In fact, it's absolutely unbelievable," he scowled, crossing his arms. The students' broad, phony smiles began flickering like broken lights, and the jonin leaning cross-legged against Iruka's desk mentally chuckled at the fakers sitting before him.

Kakashi had to applaud the man, though, for not being as gullible as he thought Iruka would be.

"I guess I can't blame you for wanting to leave a good impression on the Rokudaime. After all, I did threaten to punish anyone who so much as yawned in a disrespectful manner," Iruka reflected, tapping a finger on the tip of his chin. "But make no mistake: like all Hokages, the Rokudaime is a genius shinobi. He can see right through your façades. Just act normal and be sure to participate in today's lesson."

Not a minute into class, and Iruka already had them squirming in their seats. They were absolutely scared out of their mind, which was endlessly amusing to Kakashi.

"Good morning students," Iruka greeted in return. "While you're still in "good behavior" mode, don't you think you have something to say to Kakashi-sama?" He asked, ever so nicely.

Obediently, the class turned to address their Hokage. "Good morning, Hokage-sama."

"Yo," he waved back, smiling. Even as the brat known as Take scowled at him, with all the intensity of an enemy shinobi, Kakashi continued to wave and smile.

"I'm so proud of all of you," Iruka praised. "Your conduct has come a long way since our last guest."

"Who was your last guest?" Kakashi asked.

"I wanted the class to see a perfected hidden ninjutsu up-close, so I asked Shikamaru to come in and show his Shadow Imitation technique."

"Sounds like a promising lesson," Kakashi shrugged. "What went wrong?"

"Everything," Iruka answered flatly. "Nara-kun was chakra depleted by the end of it. Everyone wanted to be under the influence of his technique, so they all charged him at once." Iruka's class snickered. "But that doesn't seem to be the case today, does it class?" Iruka asked loudly, eyeing his students dangerously.

"No, Iruka-sensei," the class whimpered, bulking in their seats.

Iruka turned to Kakashi and grinned. "They're eager to show the new Hokage what they can do."

"I can't wait to see what they can do," Kakashi muttered dryly.

"Careful," Iruka quirked a brow and gave him a “warning" look. It consisted of a smile that wasn't a smile, but something severe and evil that never reached Iruka's eyes disguised as a smile. The warning look promised the endless verbal assault Kakashi had to look forward to if he misbehaved. Iruka clapped his hands together. "Now, before we begin, let's review what we discussed yesterday afternoon. Yes, Ani-chan?"

"Iruka-sensei, are we going to have a test?" she asked, to the chagrin of her peers. Kakashi didn't have to know this particular student long enough to guess she probably was an over-achiever, the “Sakura” of her class. She had an air of intellectual confidence that probably didn't translate well into combative situations either. The other kids, hissing and groaning for her to shut up, did nothing to quell her curiosity or sense of superiority. "I mean, will there be a written test, or…"

"No, Ani-chan," Iruka answered kindheartedly. "I can see that you're worried about giving an in-class demonstration for today, but I'm sure you'll do fine." Ani blushed, embarrassed by her sensei's praise. Kakashi would have told her that the success of her entire shinobi career depended on this one lesson, rather than stroke what was probably a well-hidden ego.

"To be a successful shinobi," Iruka stated firmly, "both physical and mental capabilities need to be at the peak of excellence, which is why it is best to exercise them both. Today, each and every one of you will have the opportunity to put what you've learned into practice. Though chakra control is a fundamental skill, it is one of the most difficult, and can anyone tell me why?" A few hands shot into the air. Iruka picked one, arbitrarily. "Yes?"

"Chakra control is a balance of both physical and spiritual energy?" answered a girl with deadpan eyes and pale blue hair tamed into two long braids.

"Very good, Ayaka-chan, and who can explain why balancing these two energies is important?" Another collection of hands flung into the air.

Kakashi sighed, already weary of these pre-genin. Iruka called on another student, walking back and forth before his class. The jonin could tell Iruka was a very hands-on instructor. Kakashi frowned, thinking back to the few months he spent training and learning here, before graduating, and found that he couldn't even remember his Academy teacher's name.

"Yes?" Iruka called on another student.

"Alright, check it out. It's like this…" Kakashi's head snapped up. He was immediately fascinated by the moronic speech pattern drifting into his ears. "So, you need to make sure this stuff is, you know, all balanced and stuff, or you won't have the energy—you won't have the focus. No, wait…! You won't have the amount in each one on the different parts, to do things like taijusti and genjutsu and…and stuff." The boy blushed, as the confidence he first started with began to ebb away.

It was the boy from yesterday, who recognized Kakashi as the Hokage, the one sporting bandages on each cheek and spiky red hair as loud and obnoxious as his voice.

"That's correct…to some extent," Iruka commented, uncertainly, but Kakashi could tell that Iruka was just as perplexed as he was. "Thank you, Tsuki-kun," he smiled, when Kakashi would have just told the boy he didn't speak stupid.

Tsuki plopped over his desk, frustrated with his long-winded answer. Still, Iruka did everything he could to cushion his student's hurt pride, even if his answer was barely comprehensible, recognizable, or understandable.

"Not that Tsuki-kun isn't right, I think, but can anyone clarify what he said so that it fits a more text-based definition?" Everyone seemed eager to put Tsuki out of his misery, as each student reached towards the ceiling. Ani was particularly trying, as her hand danced and shook like mad. To the classes' collective disappointment, Iruka chose the most lackluster among them. "Yes, Take-kun?"

The less than enthusiastic Take dropped his arm, looking to Iruka with something akin to admiration. Kakashi refused to believe a kid like that behaved like anything short of a demon, let alone respectful to Iruka. The jonin kept reminding himself that the silver haired brat slumped in his chair, with contempt permanently etched into his pointy face, was the same boy who cried on Iruka's shoulder just a few days ago. If Take hadn't given him that same intense look of hatred as the day of Tsunade's funeral, Kakashi would never have guessed it was the same kid.

"Chakra is channeled through points of the body, redistributing this energy throughout the body. Chakra is a mixture of spiritual and physical energy that aids in using various types of jutsus: ninjutsu, dojutsu, genjutsu, and taijutsu. A balanced chakra is necessary to master these skills simultaneously." Take finished with a subtle eye-roll. Meanwhile, his peers pulled back in their respective seats, gaping at him in shock. Half of them looked surprised to see him there, while others whispered about him saying anything at all.

Kakashi looked to Iruka to see what his response would be, but the chunin remained unaffected, other than the subtle smile gracing his soft features. "Take-kun, could you please clarify what you mean when you say simultaneously? For example, what are the implications behind using different jutsu that involves a balanced chakra?" the chunin asked, radiating with enthusiasm.

Take looked to his left, to his right, and all around him, startled by the waiting stares of the other students. "Tch…" he sneered, trying to get as many people to stop staring at him as humanly possible. The other students didn't look away, not at all intimidated by the smallest, wimpiest kid in the classroom.

"W-well, Iruka-sensei, there are these chambers where a necessary percentage of chakra can be expelled to perform a specific jutsu."

"What's the first chamber?" Kakashi asked, pushing off from Iruka's desk. He stepped forward, his hands resting limply in his pant pockets. Iruka's warm brown eyes gave him another critical stare, while Take's wild hazel eyes fixated on him in annoyance.

"The first chamber," Take continued, the class hanging on his every word, "is where stamina, the foundation of chakra energy, is stored. A well-rested, well-nourished ninja should have a stamina level at a hundred percent, in order to distribute this energy to the other chambers."

"What are the other chambers?" Kakashi asked Take, surprisingly eager to hear what Iruka's student had to say.

"Kakashi-san," Iruka whispered, "perhaps you should ask someone else in the class, so that everyone can get a chance to answer."

"I only want to know his answer," Kakashi answered back, still watching the scowling boy. "Go on and tell me what these other chambers are for."

"Shouldn't you already know, Hokage-sama?" Take sneered, to the horror of both Iruka and his fellow peers.

"Of course I know," he shrugged, caring less about Take's disrespect or his unwarranted hatred. Kakashi was more intrigued by the intelligence behind the boy's accurate understanding of chakra control. "I'm Hokage, after all," he smiled, "but you're an Academy student who has the opportunity to show how much you've learned from Iruka-sensei. Does Iruka-sensei not teach you well?" Kakashi could feel Iruka's warning look again, burning into the side of his face.

An infuriated Take took the bait, to Kakashi's satisfaction, and pushed forward with everything he knew.

"The second chamber produces a percentage of chakra, and between the two chambers is where a mixture of energy is released to make more chakra. The other chambers have no particular order, since this is all a theoretical to help explain how and how much chakra is released to perform a certain skill. To perform taijutsu, you don't even need to produce a percentage of chakra. You only need stamina. A percentage of stamina is exerted, depending on the move, so you would still need to know how to control the amount of energy you release. In this sense, other jutsu like illusions or spells are a lot more complicated to release and control, because the user will need to build up chakra and control it through hand seal techniques.

"Using techniques without proper chakra control can lead to an over exertion of chakra that cannot be used again once released. If you release some stamina into chakra, you have a difference left at your disposal. Then let's say you use more of that to perform a kage bunshin, then you have less chakra left at your disposal to perform another technique. Without chakra control, a person can easily overuse the amount of chakra at their disposal, releasing the full of what you maintain into their kage bunshin instead of what you only need. Once that overuse is released, it's lost forever, you'll never get it back until you replenish, and Iruka-sensei is a great teacher," Take finished in a single breath.

"Is that so?" Kakashi blinked, unprepared for that last part. He eyed Take with undying interest.

"Iruka-sensei is a fantastic teacher and, without him, half the idiots in this class would never have a chance at becoming a shinobi—"

"Take!" Iruka gasped. "That's enough!" Take went silent, to Kakashi's disappointment. Leave it to Iruka to put an end to what was sure to be and entertaining discussion. The other students didn't appear fazed by Take's insult, because it either happened often or they were simply too shocked by his behavior to see past a pre-genin peer talking back to the Rokudaime. Iruka looked torn between graciousness, pride, and outrage, much to Kakashi's entertainment. "I'm grateful for the faith you have in my abilities as your sensei, Take-kun, but please refrain from insulting your fellow peers."

"Sorry, Iruka-sensei," Take mumbled, sinking further into his seat. He crossed his arms, frowning at his desk.

"Well…" Iruka blushed, uncertain with how to proceed. He turned on Kakashi, with something similar to a flustered glare on his brow. "Are you satisfied, Hokage-sama?"

"Very much so, Iruka-sensei, thank you," Kakashi beamed a crinkled-eye smile. "Take-kun gave such a thorough telling to illustrate not only the function of chakra control but how it is distributed and why it is so important to master this basic skill. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Iruka muttered, trying to disguise his sour tone with a halfhearted smirk. "Take-kun was absolutely correct in his assessment. To a certain extent, Tsuki-kun also has a good understanding on what it means to control chakra, as does Ayaka-chan. Thank you, and I expect you three to do exceptionally well in today's lesson." Tsuki and Ayaka beamed with excitement, overjoyed by their sensei's recognition, while Take did little more than uncross his arms.

"I hope those who still don't understand what it means to have chakra control will have a better understanding by the end of today's lesson. Kakashi-sama, are you ready to begin the demonstration?"

"Whenever you are, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi smiled again.

"Good." Iruka turned to his class. "I'll take a few more questions, and then the Rokudaime is going to take over." Almost every hand went flying, more eager than ever before. "Yes, Tsuki-kun?"

"Iruka-sensei, how do you know the Hokage?"

"He's the leader of this village and a decorated shinobi, Tsuki-kun, but that's highly irrelevant to the lesson," Iruka blushed fervently.

"But you know the Hokage, Iruka-sensei! That's amazing," Tsuki exclaimed, "and my dad told me that he's that Copy Nin guy, the one who helped defeat our enemies in the last war. How do you get to know someone so cool?" Kakashi shifted awkwardly, suddenly being the focus of Tsuki's praise.

"The Hokage-sama is that Copy Nin guy?" asked some nameless kid.

"He is! That's why he's got an eye-patch—he has the Sharingan!"

"How does Iruka-sensei know him?"

"Maybe they went to the Academy together."

"Everyone please, let's get back to the lesson at—"

"I can't believe our Hokage is the legendary Copy Nin!"

"I knew his name sounded familiar. My mom says he's the reason our village survived the attack of Uchiha Madara. She also says he's the son of the White Fang."

"The White Fang?!"

"Surely you're not spending valuable class time talking about me, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi mused, while the class rippled with boisterous babble. Iruka fidgeted, helpless, as his class carried away with the many tales and stories they had ever heard about Kakashi or his late father.

"The Hatake name is listed in their textbook under legendary shinobi. That can't be helped," Iruka sulked, thoroughly upset. "I knew they'd get distracted by your status." The chunin turned on his class. Kakashi expected Iruka to crash down on his students with his infamous temper, but that moment never came. He heard his name, Kakashi, brought up time and time again, followed with oblivious chatter. The class was in an uproar, and Iruka no longer seemed to pose the same threat as before.

The jonin felt a sudden drain spike in Iruka's energy and his eye went wide. He could feel Iruka battling to conceal his chakra level without reason. Kakashi frowned, his concentration torn between countering Iruka's efforts to conceal his chakra and the loud, obnoxious chatter of twenty different children.

"HEY!" Kakashi barked, watching Iruka's students.

Young faces fell as the leader of their village drowned them in a dark and dangerous ripple of energy. Many who were out of their seats slowly sat back at their desk, for fear that any sudden moment would earn them Hokage-sama's lethal one-eyed stare. Pudgy cheeks drained of smiles and laughter were replaced with fearful obedience, and what talk of Kakashi as the Great Copy Nin quickly fell to thoughts of the 'Great and Terrifying Copy Nin Rokudaime'.

"Settle down," Kakashi growled, effectively putting the terror back into Iruka's students. "To answer your question, Tsuki-kun," the bandaged boy trembled in response, "a few of Iruka-sensei's former students made my genin team. That's how we know each other."

"Thank you, Kakashi-san," Iruka sighed wearily. Kakashi frowned but accepted the gratitude. "Kakashi-sama is right. You all remember Naruto, yes?" Several eager nods were made, along with a few excited grins, but the fear of angering the Hokage again kept the response relatively tamed. "Well, Kakashi-sama was Naruto's jonin sensei."

"No way!" Tsuki couldn't help himself, Iruka knew, having become Naruto's #1 Fan. "No wonder Naruto-kun's so cool!"

The Academy teacher had to laugh. "Yes, Tsuki-kun…this is why Naruto's cool." He gave Kakashi a soft smile. Tsuki raised his hand again. "Yes, Tsuki-kun?"

"When is Naruto-kun coming to visit again?"

"I'm not sure…" Iruka trailed off, casting his eyes away from his hopeful students. "He'll show up at some point. He's been a bit tied up recently." Kakashi felt Iruka's gaze on him, but he shrugged it off, not having much to say on that matter.

He hated those looks Iruka gave him, the ones that demanded he deal with a subject he'd rather not talk about. Then they always disappeared, like now, so long as Kakashi ignored them.

"Yes?" Iruka called on another student.

"Why does Hokage-sama wear a mask?"

Iruka crossed his arms and shook his head. "That's a very inappropriate question, Hisane-kun. Unless any of you have any more questions, questions that are relevant to the lesson," Iruka add dryly, when almost every hand went into the air. Apparently, very few students had questions that dealt with the day's lesson. Iruka called on one of the remaining hands. "Yes, Ani-chan?"

"You said yesterday that we could ask Hokage-sama about what it is to be a shinobi," she mentioned, fidgeting with her fingers.

"I'm sure the Hokage wouldn't mind answering that question," Iruka smiled. Kakashi quickly feigned disinterest in Ani and the rest of her peers, not at all eager to answer questions. "Care to take over, Kakashi-sama?"

"Sure," Kakashi nodded. With any luck, he could get away with giving half-truths and vague responses, without the wrath of Iruka thundering down upon him. "What was the question again?" he asked Ani, slightly amused by her hesitation.

"Um…H-Hokage-sama, what does it take to be a shinobi?"

"Good question," Kakashi said seriously, shrugging his shoulders. "A successful shinobi is—" Kakashi was cut off by a few sharp knocks rattling the classroom door. It flew open to reveal a rather reserved looking woman with dark wavy hair, ruby lips, and dark oval glasses.

"Iruka-sensei! Oh…" She stopped short, as two men, and a class of curious faces, stared back at her. Spotting Kakashi as the Hokage he was, she gave a short bow of respect. "Hokage-sama." Kakashi gave her a curt nod in return, unsettled with the dark crimson spreading across her cheeks, and the coy smile on her face.

"Suzume-sensei…what's wrong?" Iruka asked with worry.

"A few of the other instructors are having an emergency meeting," she answered, holding the door open. "We need you to facilitate the proceedings."

"Oh," Iruka muttered. He looked to Kakashi and his class. "I have a class right now. Surely, the meeting can take place at some other time?"

"No, Iruka-sensei," Suzume-sensei shook her head pointedly, pushing the bridge of her glasses back. "This is the agreed time. I'm surprised no one told you, so I apologize for that. Hokage-sama," she bowed again, addressing a Kakashi still trying to feign disinterest, "you are our greatest shinobi. You could easily take over and instruct Iruka-sensei's class." His eyes went wide, surprised by the suggestion. Kakashi stared back at Suzume-sensei, who looked at him with a strange gleam in her eyes.

Iruka frowned, his gaze shifting between his class, his colleague, and his Hokage. "I guess that's true enough," he mumbled with unease. "Kakashi-sama…"

"No." Kakashi already knew what Iruka would ask of him, to monitor twenty soul sucking brats while he went away for some teacher's meeting. He wouldn't stand for it. He was the Rokudaime, after all. True, Hokage's made Academy visits and gave class demonstrations all the time. He was hoping to be a new breed of Hokage, one that did away with all of that nonsense.

Then Iruka came along and ruined it. Showing the class his greatness was one thing, but watching them like some sort of chunin substitute went too far.

"No way, no how," he murmured into the chunin's ear, "and you can tell your colleague the same." He glanced back briefly, at the woman still hanging from Iruka's classroom door. Iruka sucked in a breath, annoyed but not surprised by Kakashi's reluctance. He went to retaliate but stopped before he could make a fool of himself or cause a scene.

Were they alone in the missions room, his apartment, or at Ichiraku's with Naruto, the chunin wouldn't have thought twice about giving Kakashi a verbal lashing and a heated lecture about taking on all duties of the Hokage. These duties included taking the time to visit the Academy, to share with a class their experiences as a shinobi.

However, Kakashi and Iruka were not in a more informal setting. They were not in the missions room, his apartment, or having another round of ramen at Ichiraku's with Naruto. In fact, in this room, they were no longer Kakashi and Iruka but Kakashi-sama and Iruka-sensei. Iruka was far inferior to Kakashi, in ability and rank. He had no right to demand or request anything from the older, more esteemed man. To do so would be disrespectful, and Iruka would forever be his students' embodiment of what a shinobi should never be.

"Forgive me, Kakashi-sama, for forgetting my place. I have no right to ask such a thing from you," Iruka bowed apologetically.

Kakashi frowned, staring at Iruka, Iruka's students, and the teacher Iruka called Suzume-sensei. He tried to understand the public charade Iruka wanted to keep up with, but he thought he made it clear the other day. Iruka treating him differently, because of his title, annoyed him, both publicly and privately. Why did a title have to change every aspect of his life? He wouldn't stand for it.

"Maa..." he drawled and scratched his head, "don't make me feel guilty, Iruka-sensei, and don't bow."

"Yes, Hokage-sama."

"No," Kakashi huffed, rubbing down one side of his face with a gloved palm. "Don't agree with me, either."

"My apologies, Kakashi-sama."

"Stop doing that..." Kakashi hissed, having already forgotten about the students in their seats and the woman at the door. He turned on Iruka. "When you call me Kakashi-sama, it annoys me, when you say sorry and I don't deserve an apology, it annoys me, and when you bow—"

"I'm merely showing you—"

"You're merely being annoying—"

"—the respect entitled to a Hokage, Kakashi-sama. Please, now is not the time to discuss something like this," Iruka hissed back, trying to keep the conversation between themselves. His students, fidgeting with curiosity and impatience, were staring down at their sensei and the Rokudaime and wondering what the two were talking about.

Take sat back, fuming, while his peers whispered and speculated. He felt his time better spent drumming his fingers against the top of his desk than talking, watching as the Hokage of their village verbally accosted his beloved Iruka-sensei.

Kakashi stared at Iruka, long and hard, his full lipped frown, the dark, sunken hue beneath his brown eyes, the troubled quirk of his brow, and his dulled over stare.

"I thought I told you before," he said, the softer tone of his voice surprising Kakashi. Iruka sighed and shook his head. The last thing he needed was an unusually immature jonin complaining about the pointlessness of village protocol. Those fruitless arguments were best left at home, where they belonged. "We're in a classroom, Kakashi-sama, not alone," Iruka urged desperately.

Iruka did not have to remind him of this fact. Kakashi ignored the class and, instead, looked to the other Academy teacher standing by the open door. "Suzume-sensei, yes?

"Yes, Kakashi-sama," Suzume smiled.

"Do not assume I am more capable than Iruka-sensei in teaching children, simply because I'm the Hokage," he stated and was glad to see her face flush in shame. "To be honest, I can't stand children and, if left with twenty of them for only a little while, I can assure you there may be none left," Kakashi finished, and he said it just loud enough for the entire class to hear.

"Yes, of course," a flushed Suzume apologized, bowing over and over again. "Please, forgive me."

Iruka had grown weary, which happened often in Kakashi's presence. The chunin thought he'd be used to how the older man's mind worked, on its own level of insanity, where things made sense to him and him only, but alas...

"You do realize Suzume-sama just bowed and apologized...she called you Hokage-sensei," Iruka noted, his words drifting past Kakashi's ear in a whisper.

"That's different," Kakashi shrugged.

"Suzume-sensei is not a _that_ ," Iruka scoffed. "She is a she, and I hardly see a difference."

"She isn't you."

"Perhaps we should reschedule the meeting, Iruka-sensei...Iruka-sensei?" Suzume asked, stepping forward.

"O-oh, sorry," Iruka smiled gently, having missed what Suzume said. Wide-eyed and speechless, he was finding it difficult to look anywhere but towards the six foot one inch jonin staring back at him. Suzume crossed her arms and tapped her foot, frustrated. "Could you repeat that?"

"I said—"

"There's no need to reschedule," Kakashi interrupted, disliking the woman more, with every passing second. "Iruka-sensei will go, but I fail to see why he's needed for some teacher meeting."

"Kakashi-sama, I am a teacher," Iruka blushed, "and I'm also Head of the Instructors Union."

Kakashi rolled his eye, not at all surprised that someone of such infinite meticulousness and organization skills would be the head of some teachers' organization. "Of course you are."

"I must attend every meeting."

"Of course you do."

"Are you offering to watch over my class, Kakashi-sama?"

"Yes," Kakashi's head fell to the side, his mind defeated. "Now go...your colleague is falling over herself with impatience," he grumbled, but Iruka smiled. Once again, Kakashi found himself lured into something he didn't want to do, by a persistent chunin sensei with a sharp mind and a seemingly harmless demeanor. He took hold of Iruka's arm and pulled him forward. "I plan to break your students, in your absence, Iruka-sensei." He let go, just as quickly, to gauge the younger man's response.

To his disappointment, Iruka was not the frowning, fearful mess he had hoped for. "We'll see who breaks, Kakashi-sama," the chunin said, grinning daringly. Kakashi's smirk fell.

"Class, I have a meeting to attend, but I leave you in the more than capable hands of our newly appointed Hokage. He will instruct you for the remainder of the lesson, but I'm sure to be back before lunch break," he beamed. "Yes, Ani-chan?"

"Iruka-sensei," Ani's voice quivered and her eyes glistened, "please don't leave us alone with Hokage-sama."

"Are you kidding me?" Tsuki stood, glaring at Ani. "The Hokage-sama is so cool! He said he might kill us!"

"That's not a good thing, you idiot," Take barked back, not caring to even glance in Tsuki's direction. "Just because he can say whatever he wants, doesn't mean he should," he sneered, staring Kakashi dead-on.

"That's funny...Iruka-sensei said something similar to that," Kakashi mumbled, tapping his chin mindfully.

"You just don't know what's cool, Take-kun," Tsuki jeered, falling back into his seat.

Take flushed red, "And you're just a complete and utter idiot!"

"Oi!"

Twenty bodies bolted at the sound of Kakashi's voice.

Walking back to Iruka-sensei's desk, he didn't see their responses and didn't care for them but was glad to hear them shut up already. "Notice anything different?" he drawled, crossing his arms. A few hands went up. "That was a rhetorical question, you mindless automatons. Iruka-sensei is gone, so there's no one here to hold your hand, to encourage you, to mother you, or ease your failures. To be a shinobi, you must learn a foundation of self-reliance that can only be found through pushing your skills to the very brink of your limits. Before Naruto became a man of my team, he had less chakra control than a newborn baby. Not that I was his greatest influence, but I pinned him up against another, time and time again, to force some semblance of progression."

Kakashi leaned forward, gleeful at the pale faces staring back at him.

"You get stronger, when you truly believe it is you up against the entire world."

Twenty students gulped in fear.

"Stand up," Kakashi demanded, and everyone, even a reluctant Take, stood from their seats. "Get into groups of two and find a spot in the center of the room." He joyfully watched Iruka's students trudge down the rows. Half of them remained frightened and unwilling to believe that their quick-tempered yet generally nurturing sensei would leave them with a demon man.

"I've got Take-kun!" Tsuki announced, wrapping an arm around the smaller boy. Take froze, sinking into a dangerously low scowl. The students quickly formed groups of two. Kakashi was satisfied, as the new fear in Iruka's students made his role as substitute instructor a lot easier.

Still, there were three students Kakashi deemed a possible threat to his perfectly structured plans of cruise control. There was the academically enthusiastic Ani, the hyper, eager, and somewhat dense Tsuki, and Take...demon spawn, and Kakashi felt that was putting it lightly. To his misfortune, two of those three threats just happened to pair themselves together.

"Why are we doing this, exactly?" Take asked, trying to ignore the hold that kept him joined to a ridiculous redheaded boy. Kakashi just looked at him, critically, wondering if he could possibly figure the puny brat out.

Of course he could.

"I already told you what you are going to do," he said. "Part one of the lesson will focus on chakra build-up. I want to see who can produce the strongest amount of chakra, so...I'm pitting you against each other," Kakashi shrugged, adding a thumb's up to a gleefully dangerous stare.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed ^_^


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi guides Iruka's class in a lesson that more than teaches him a few lessons in kind, and Naruto asks a request of Iruka his former chunin sensei can hardly refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No notes. enjoy ^_^

_'Hiro searched the grounds like a wild man, too consumed by the fire of Aimi's touch. He couldn't allow her to disappear from his sights, not ever again...'_

"Hokage-sama, nothing's happening."

"Try again, until you are able to repel."

_'He found her at the hot springs, standing in a pool of her own robes. Her bare, curvaceous figure stood out amongst the steamy tongues of smoke lapping at her moist body. They danced in a symphony of still silence, urging him forward with wisps of come-hither fingers.'_

"Hokage-sama, what does it mean if he keeps pushing me but I can't push back?"

"It means he's got a better grasp on how to focus his chakra, and you don't."

_'Then she turned and he stared, transfixed, as the soft tendrils adorning her face caressed her reddening shoulders. Aimi gazed upon him, her eyes filled with passion and wanton need.'_

"I keep trying but nothing's happening."

"Mm...Then maybe you weren't cut out to be a shinobi," Kakashi replied in a bored tone, leaving another one of the village's future to sulk back to their spot. Kakashi gave the retreating figure a brief glance, as he did with the rest of the class, before returning to the back-up Icha Icha volume he always kept stashed in an interior pocket of his pants. Now leaning up against Iruka's desk once more, with his legs crossed in their usual idle manner, he tried very hard to care for and tend to the needs of Iruka's students but found himself so unbelievably bored that, not even a few minutes into the exercise, he was reaching for his back pocket.

He read a few lines and scanned the room, read a few lines and scanned the room. Read a few lines…the jonin found no difficulty in juggling both his novel and the twenty children left in his charge.

_'Aimi mouthed "I want you," as gracefully as a fallen angel sent from the heavens to quench Hiro's every desire. Hiro approached her with suspenseful steps, determined to…_

Kakashi sighed and looked up again. He could have sworn he heard disbelief, the excitement of a student succeeding where so many of his or her peers had failed in the last half hour, but alas…Kakashi looked up and saw only struggling brats who likened themselves to that of true shinobi. He noted Ayaka with her partner. Her face was strained in frustration. Was she the student he had just dismissed?

But she wasn't the only face sunken with hopelessness and pained with an inability to push out a portion of their chakra. The majority of the class, all of whom had approached Kakashi in some way or another, adorned the same trying face as they pushed the palms of their hands together.

Kakashi frowned, and the book in his hand went limp, because he couldn't focus on the story's drive when so many little whiny voices whimpered and groaned at the task he had given them. In fact, the only group not making a sound was Tsuki and Take's, and that was only because they never started the exercise to begin with.

Kakashi lifted up his book once again, but more as a disguise than for actual reading. He didn't want the little horrors to think he wasn't busy, otherwise they'd all charge him at once with questions he couldn't be bothered to address. He showed them the proper way, told them what feeling to expect when their chakra flow was being manipulated. For this exercise, it was a test of determination more than real skill. Any promising shinobi could exert a pulse of chakra, no matter how big. Regardless, he kept his eye and his ears open for any development. He prepared himself to give more instruction, to teach in the helpful way Iruka probably expected of him.

"You pervert." Kakashi looked down the side of his book and directly into the face of the one and only Take. His one visible brow managed to rise into his hairline more times than ever before, when confronted with the boy, but the jonin had to admit that Take had left an impression, even if it wasn't a very good one.

"I'm not a pervert," Kakashi smiled. "Go away."

"Yes you are," Take insisted. Not surprisingly, the boy's voice didn't magically disappear as his face did, when Kakashi blocked it with his open book. He went back to pretending not to care about the progress of Iruka's students, while hoping beyond hope that Take would cross his arms and brood back to the table he so defiantly squatted on only a few minutes into the exercise.

"Only perverts read that trashy book."

Kakashi looked down the side again, assaulted with angry hazel eyes…again. "Mm? How would you know? Have you ever read this book before?"

"No!" Take said a bit too quickly, his face blushing madly. It was amusing and oh so familiar to Kakashi. With that skin tone, Take's face went red the same way his beloved sensei's face did. "I just know that they're filled with no good nonsense."

"Yes, nonsense. Now go away." Kakashi held his book out once more, overjoyed by the view.

Take scowled, his eyes burning into the cover of Kakashi's book with unbridled deviousness. "I'm sure Iruka-sensei would love to hear about your taste in reading, especially, when in front of his impressionable students."

Kakashi frowned again, working very hard to conceal his unease.

"Who says Iruka-sensei has to know?" Take's sinister smile was pure evil to Kakashi's eye, as he challenged the jonin with a chilling stare. To make matters worse, Kakashi had exposed a weak point that Take could easily take advantage of from here on out. Kakashi should have played it cool and nonchalant, as if he couldn't care less, but how could he not care, knowing the punishment Iruka would surely bestow upon him? If Iruka ever caught wind of him reading Icha Icha in front of his students, Kakashi had no doubt that the less capable chunin would reign down upon him with spontaneous strength and a battle cry of unnatural volume to the human ears.

"I say Iruka-sensei has to know, Hokage-sama," Take cooed, grinning cheekily, "or, maybe he doesn't have to know. It all depends."

"What do you want?" Kakashi drawled, his eye shifting about the busy classroom.

"I want you to do what Iruka-sensei left you here to do and teach us a lesson," Take stated firmly. Kakashi's head fell back as he slumped against Iruka's desk, tortured by the idea. A spawn of all evil, cleverly disguised as a little boy, oozed with conviction that the jonin could not deny.

Take was out for blood.

"I am teaching you a lesson," Kakashi argued, but he was already closing his book and shoving it down that expertly concealed back pocket. "Why aren't you practicing the exercise I gave you?" Kakashi asked, his lazy gaze searching the room for Take's group partner. Tsuki was currently moving about the classroom, with energetic speed that could rival a ramen-fueled Naruto, trying to join in with other groups. But each group wrote him off, leaving the graceless redhead to slump back into his seat with his head in his arms.

"This exercise is too easy for me. It's not worth my time," Take scowled, with his hands on his hips. Kakashi's eye went wide, staring at what could only be considered a mini Iruka stance embodied by a demon. Take had the scarred man's signature pose and his signature frown down to a 'T', but it was all wrong…there was an air of arrogance in Take that Umino Iruka simply did not possess.

"Maa, what about your partner?" Kakashi asked, with furrowed brow, nodding towards the boy sitting jadedly behind the rest of the class. "Wouldn't you agree that he could use the practice?"

Take didn't even look back to his group partner, staring at Kakashi with even more annoyance. "He's such a distraction. I want a more challenging exercises."

"Practice fluctuating chakra with Tsuki, for a bit, and then we'll move on to something else." Take eyed him, distrustfully, but said nothing more, and Kakashi watched the small boy march away, over to where Tsuki sat in another's seat. Kakashi prided himself on having superb hearing because, on many occasions, such advanced auditory skills had saved him from enemy scheme. However, amid the obnoxious and indistinguishable chatter of the students, he couldn't hear the words shared between the two boys. Take turned his head, making it impossible to read his lips, and Kakashi was quite curious to know what the silver haired boy said to get Tsuki to jump from his seat with such determined enthusiasm.

"YOSH! YOU'RE GONNA PRACTICE WITH ME!"

Kakashi heard that.

In fact, Kakashi was quite certain that the entire village heard Tsuki's excitement, but the class remained unfazed and strangely immune to the high volume of the bandaged boy's voice. Tsuki leaped up and tackled Take, who quickly countered by stepping to the side, leaving the other boy to fall, face first, into a desk.

"Hokage-sama?" Kakashi looked down to where that familiar, sad, high-pitched voice of a little girl now accompanied a timid face to go with it. He scolded himself, for forgetting he was supposed to be using his Icha Icha as a shield, but it wasn't entirely his fault. No…the demon he now saw, standing at the back of the class with his hands pressed together… He was to blame.

"Yes, Ayaka-chan?" he replied, sighing with great woe.

Ayaka looked down to the floor, causing her blue pig-tails to falls over her shoulders. "I know that I keep messing up and stuff," she whimpered, twiddled her fingers, and kneaded the ball of her foot into the floor, "but I know I have what it takes to be a…a…" She looked up again, tears brimming in her eyes. "I don't want to be a failure. I want to be a great kunoichi."

"Why are you crying?" Kakashi asked, truly surprised. He didn't know what else to say. There was no cause for crying. Why was Ayaka crying?

"Y-you hurt my feelings, Hokage-sama," she sobbed into the sleeves of her arms.

Kakashi's eye went wide. He looked around, to all the other small faces staring back at him with some variation of the same hopelessness and dejection. He could only imagine what Iruka would think if he walked through that classroom door now and found eighteen small faces staring back at him with eyes glazed over with tears…Kakashi saw a lot of malice in his future. He saw Iruka quitting his personal assistant position before it could even begin. Only his personal ninken would be allowed to dwell in Iruka's apartment, leaving Kakashi to sulk on the chunin's rooftop, should he even be so lucky.

"Did I hurt your feelings?" he asked the class and was awarded with firm nods from every student.

Then there was a loud crash from the back of the classroom.

Kakashi followed the lethal sound of danger and, instead, found something he simply could not believe. He afforded himself enough time, not that a high level jonin of his caliber needed much time, and managed to buffer Tsuki's fall before the boy could go crashing into a pale teal wall. The noise level increased by tenfold, with squeals and screams, and a whole lot of other unnecessary noises that little kids made when caught by surprised. Kakashi managed to tune them out, focusing on the boy in his arms who was just flung into four desks, one right after the other.

"Are you alright?" Kakashi asked urgently, checking Tsuki over for any severe physical damage.

Tsuki's eyes swirled in their sockets, while a wavy smile slithered across his mouth. Other than the growing lump his gloved hands felt on the top of the boy's forehead, Tsuki was unharmed.

"Take is a lot stronger than I thought he was," Tsuki wheezed, still grinning. Kakashi looked at Take, while still hunched over and pressed firmly against the wall. He stared at the boy with the kind of intensity he normally reserved for reckless opponents. The jonin could feel the pulse of chakra still imprisoned in Take's fists and felt its desperate need for escape. It was a strong, powerful force. Kakashi had to wonder if Iruka was even aware that one of his students possessed such chakra and what they were capable of doing with such strength.

Take slowly lowered his arms and it relieved Kakashi to see some semblance of reaction from the boy, like the shock in his deadened gaze. What he did here, whatever burst of energy that was, was not intentional. He didn't have to wonder whether or not Take was even aware of his own untrained abilities. He wasn't.

Soon that vulnerability in Take's eyes morphed back into a familiar scowl, as his gaze traveled across the room, glaring at all those faces staring back at him.

"Of course he hurt your feelings," he shot back at the class, all of who stepped back from the force of Take's voice. "He's not some great Kage. He's just a man…and a pervert." Iruka's students didn't move to agree or disagree, too unnerved by whatever just happened, whatever they just saw, which was Take, a fellow peer, throwing another student across the room.

"Tsuki-kun."

"Meh?" Tsuki replied, ever so stupidly.

"Can you get up?" Kakashi asked, his eye still fixed on Take.

"Y-yeah," the little boy managed whimsically, "I think I can do that." With a few uncertain steps, and much support from the jonin, Tsuki managed to clamber on to his own two feet. He had a few missteps, all of which Kakashi balanced with arms carefully cuffed under Tsuki's shoulders. Tsuki turned on Take, with narrowed eyes and a slurred speech. "Heyy…y-you can, can, can't talk about the Hokage like that. He's a war hero," he beamed proudly, slowly coming away from what could have been a severe everything injury.

"Tch…" Take scoffed, crossed his arms, and said nothing. The attitude was so familiar to Kakashi, so familiar... It took the jonin back to a time, not long ago, when he had students, and he tried not to put a name and a face to the memories flooding his memory, reminding him of a genius student he once likened to himself.

"Everyone get back into your groups." The students quickly obeyed Kakashi's orders, aware of the danger in his tone. It was a credit to Iruka's teaching skills, to have such perceptive students. "You, sit this one out," he told Tsuki, setting him on the first platform. He expected the boy to complain, but if the distant grin on his bandaged face was any indication of how far gone he was… "You'll be alright." Kakashi grazed a hand through Tsuki's shocking red locks, before returning to the front of the class. "Listen up," he addressed the class. "We're going to try this again but, this time, I want you to really concentrate."

He looked to Ayaka, offering the girl a crinkled-eyed smile.

"You have to relax and focus your energy, until you can feel it in the palms of your hands. Start with a hand seal, to help ease the flow of chakra. This is simply a small form of manipulation. You want to trap the energy into a concentrated area, however large the amount, and release it. At the average level of this class, every student should be able to produce a small pulse that can be felt by your partner."

"What about Take-kun?" Ani asked, stepping forward. She stared at the boy in question, with uncertainty in her eyes. "What he did isn't normal...is it?"

"He's different." Kakashi followed her gaze and stared at the boy standing at the head of the class. Iruka's students returned to their spots, including Ani, and Kakashi was put off by their collective silence. However, they took his advice into consideration, starting with hand signs to better help concentrate their chakra flow.

"Ah…!" Kakashi caught sight of a student with sandy blonde hair and full brown eyes. He was staring back at his Hokage with excitement. "I can feel it, Hokage-sama. It's working!"

"I feel it too!" exclaimed the boy's partner, as her own hands pushed back against the repulsion.

"Good," Kakashi nodded, his eyes wandering over more students and their increasing sucession.

What had changed? He had only said a few words, Kakashi thought. Even his team, Team 7, needed constant words of encouragement and reassuring smiles to get them to perform accordingly. Kakashi couldn't remember a time anyone encouraged him, throughout his entire shinobi career. It was expected of him to do only the best.

The class burst with erratic whoops and joyful banter, all in response to some degree of accomplishment. He watched students push and push back with simple exertions of energy, and Kakashi crossed his arms with his own sense of achievement. He experienced this feeling many times before, on missions with Team 7 that showed some semblance of team improvement. The satisfaction felt after a successful mission could easily compare to knowing that your knowledge of the shinobi way was shaping the careers of future generations. Kakashi then rolled his eye, thinking that this must be the reason why Iruka was so dedicated to his students. It was either that or the chunin truly had an average skill level.

"I did it. I did it, Hokage-sama," Ayaka smiled, her droopy eyes brimming with glistening zeal. She was vaguely reminiscent of that one friend of Konohamaru's, the glasses wearing one whose nose used to drip with snot.

He quickly brushed the thought away, tilted his head, and smiled. "Feel better?"

"Yes!" she nodded eagerly, returning to her partner's side. The entire class was more eager, as whole, practicing continuously to the point where Kakashi could sense a gradual increase in the strength of their chakra signatures. Not only was Iruka's class determined, good listeners, but they were also rather advanced. Even so, Kakashi had already made chunin by their age, so it was nothing to brag about. It then occurred to the jonin that he didn't even know what their ages were but, with this amount of untapped potential, they had to be ten or eleven, at least.

"How old are you, anyway?" Kakashi asked the blue haired girl.

"I'm ten, Hokage-sama," Ayaka giggled.

"Is every student here ten years of age?"

"Yeah," she faltered, her glance shifting uncertainly in the opposite direction, "except for Take. Take's nine."

"I see." Ten was a fitting age for this class, even more so, considering they exceeded the average skill level of a normal pre-genin class. Kakashi underestimated them, he would admit, watching the students jump back from one another. Now they were functioning with an acceptable level of class progress, so Iruka couldn't lecture him for not teaching. Kakashi found all his attention falling on the nine-year-old boy still standing at the back of the class. As usual, Take stood with a frown on his face and his arms crossed defiantly against his chest. His gaze had never wandered from Kakashi. The jonin could feel it on the back-burner of his vigilant mind, judging him for some unknown reason. He was an adult; furthermore, a jonin and a village leader, who didn't need to answer or respond to some strange little boy's hatred.

With that in mind, Kakashi reached into his back pocket and pulled out his security Icha Icha, while his own challenging stare never wandered from Take's. Sitting on the edge of Iruka's desk, the jonin grazed his fingers over to find that all-telling, overworked bend in the book binding. The right page revealed itself in a matter of seconds, and Kakashi continued his reading.

"Yo, young one!" He didn't look up, familiar with his ninken suddenly appearing in his presence.

"Hello Pakkun," Kakashi hummed, turning a page.

Pakkun padded his feet over Iruka's desk, taking in his environment. He noted the classroom, the students, the morning sun starting to peep through the open window, and the distinct smell of Iruka all over the place, but he spotted no chunin in sight. "Where's Iruka-sensei?" he asked, looking to his human. Kakashi, however, was too engrossed in his reading to care, or was ignoring him simply because he could, which was most often the case. "Hey, I'm talking to you...!"

Pakkun growled and nudged Kakashi with his paw, gaining more than just the jonin's attention. Kakashi looked up, not because of Pakkun, but because all of Iruka's students had suddenly grown eerily bug-eyed and quiet. They were all frozen in place, with a look of fascination on their faces. Hands in mid-air and chakra control forgotten, their round eyes stared at Pakkun with a predatory stare.

"Look!" cried some girl. "It's a puppy! He's so cute!"

Kakashi sighed, "Now, look what you've done." He jumped out of the way, just in time to escape the rush of children crowding Iruka's desk. Pakkun might as well been on the moon, alone in his efforts to get away from the many grubby hands trying to touch his fur. The glare he afforded Kakashi quickly changed to fear and desperation, when a group of rambunctious little girls managed to get a hold of his body.

"Let go of me, you crazy pups!"

"He can talk too!" another girl giggled, threatening to decapitate the poor pug with her merciless hold.

"He can talk?" asked a boy. "I want to see him! That's so cool!" Suddenly all the boys tried to sidle through the girls, until everyone had caught some portion of Kakashi's ninken.

"Yes! I can talk," Pakkun breathed, his face going purple, "but I like breathing more—let go of me! Kakashi do something!" The masked man took Pakkun's plea into consideration as well as how the students managed to confiscate his tail, his ears, his head, and every limb. He knew he couldn't just stand to the side reading his Icha Icha, knowing that Iruka's class would, eventually, rip his hound in two. "Let go, I say!" Eventually the students released him, but they continued to dote and fawn over the pug, as though he were a young pup.

"Look at those little paws."

"He's so adorable. What kind of puppy are you?"

"I'm a pug, and do I sound like a puppy?"

"Aww…he's all angry. That's so adorable!"

"Maa, alright then… he's just a ninken, nothing more. Everyone, back to your positions," Kakashi breathed, but his orders fell on deaf ears. He shrugged, indifferent to the students' unresponsiveness. Glancing off, he spotted Tsuki and Take, the only two who didn't move to kill Pakkun with unwanted affection.

"I wanna go see the dog," Tsuki whined.

"Don't be an idiot," Take sneered. "You can barely lift your head. If you try to stand up, you'll probably fall on your face."

"Yeah, and whose fault would that be?" Tsuki sulked, missing the hurt in Take's eyes. The boy reached up to knead the large bump in the back of his head. "Take, why do you have to be so cruel?"

"I'm not being cruel. I'm being sensible." Take stared at the other boy, pointedly, a sense of unwanted guilt taking over his features. "And I didn't mean to do that…I'm sorry, but you'll only injure yourself even more by being stupid."

"No, I won't."

"Tch…yes you will. You always do." Despite Take's warning, Tsuki immediately stood and nearly fell over his own disorientation. Take quickly reached out and caught the redhead, wrapping an arm over his shoulders. Tsuki's weight fell on the slighter boy, causing him to wince, but Take kept a strong hold to stop the other boy from falling flat on his face as he predicted. He glared at him, a prominent scowl on his face. "You idiot."

Tsuki grinned.

"You got him?" The two looked up to see their Hokage looking down at them, with his book still in hand.

"Yes," Take said tersely, glaring at the Icha Icha book. "Filth."

"What was that?"

"Hokage-sama, I don't feel too good," Tsuki chuckled.

"I told you not to get up!" Take growled, frustrated. He turned on Kakashi. "When are we going to do something else? Or will I have to tell Iruka-sensei about how you spent all your time reading about naked ladies?"

"Hey, this book isn't just about stuff like that," Kakashi defended, completely missing the point. "It's an actual story, with dialogue and situations. Very character driven. It's rather well written too, if I do say so myself."

"Naked ladies?" Tsuki's head shot up, alert as an eager dog. "Where?"

Take let go with narrowed eyes, leaving Tsuki to fall to the floor.

"Ow!"

"Teach us something else, or I'll tell Iruka-sensei about that book."

"What makes you think Iruka-sensei doesn't already know?"

"You wouldn't be here, if he did. He would never allow that kind of trash in here."

"Take…! Are you trying to kill me?"

Kakashi found himself in a stand-off. Two citizens of the leaf were engaged in a battle of intimidation: him and Take. For the life of him, he couldn't explain why a nine-year-old, pre-genin child wouldn't back down to him, a full grown, jonin shinobi, and a Hokage at that. No one defied Kakashi. Well, no one in their right mind…the fighting gleam in Take's eyes was strikingly familiar to the stare he often received from a particular brown haired, brown-eyed chunin sensei.

He suddenly relented, realizing the ridiculousness of the situation. He was being blackmailed by a nine-year-old brat. No wonder he never took on a team until Team 7. He didn't have the time or patience for kids and their antics, which is why he told Team7 he didn't like them the moment he met them. He should have elaborated, back then…he didn't like them because they were useless and unskilled, and because they dropped an eraser filled with chalk on his head. More important was skill and usefulness and, somewhere, underneath all that anger in Take, rested a dormant well of energy. Kakashi's stare turned thoughtful…what Take did to Tsuki was uncommon for a boy so obviously untrained. He couldn't ignore that strength—that untapped potential.

"Well? What's your answer, Hokage-sama?" Take spat venomously, but Kakashi ignored it. He looked to the boy rocking on the floor, cradling his head in his hands, and the students barricading Pakkun on top of Iruka's desk. He sighed, his book hand falling to the side.

"Alright."

"Hey, doggy? What's your name?"

"My name is Pakkun. I am one of the Hokage's ninken," a defeated Pakkun cringed, answering tiredly.

"A ninken? You mean, like a ninja dog?"

"Yes. I am part of a summoning that has been passed down the Hatake line for generations." Pakkun looked all around him, surrounded by giant curious human eyes. A mixture of boys and girls stared back at him, now more intrigued by what he was than by what he looked like. It was a nice change, in his opinion. Pakkun couldn't recall the last time he'd been pinched in so many places.

"So, you're the Hokage-sama's pet?"

"No! I'm not a pet!" he growled, but his small body proved to be his downfall once again. Like so many others, these kids did not feel he posed a threat. But he refused to be considered as Kakashi's pet, even if that was basically his retirement plan.

"A ninken is different from a domestic dog. We can be sent away and summoned to appear for immediate action. We fight in battle and are used in stealth tactics."

"Your fur is soft," cooed one kid, who quickly followed that opinion with rough rubs down Pakkun's back. Pakkun winced, as the kid pulled on the skin so hard that it stretched his eye sockets.

"Don't do that, please. I mean it," he warned, but a few more kids were only encouraged to join in. "Stop it!" Pakkun howled, amid the giggles and childish chatter. "I'll bite you all!"

"Hey, Iruka-sensei's students," drifted a distinctive and nearby voice. Iruka's class looked around the room frantically, searching for the source but found none. "Look up." Like mindless sheep, eighteen pairs of eyes looked up to find their Hokage and substitute instructor smiling back at them, upside-down.

"Whoa…" Tsuki gasped, looking up from the floor.

Despite himself, Take looked equally impressed.

"I guess it's time we move on to another exercise," Kakashi breathed, with his feet firmly planted against the ceiling.

"That's so cool!" someone yelled, and eyes went wide with surprise and excitement. Kakashi chuckled at how easily impressed they were. He walked in a full circle, to put on a show, and wasn't disappointed to hear a wide range of compliments. Did they expect anything less from a Hokage? He walked over them for a bit longer, allowing the students to reach out for the fallen cloth of his robes.

"Consider this your example for the next part of the lesson," Kakashi announced, his eye wandering the crowd of students just a few feet below. "Apart from being able to exert the chakra that is necessary to perform the shinobi arts, you must also know how to manipulate it in what would be considered a controlled region." With his book-free hand, Kakashi pointed towards his feet. "The difference between manipulating the flow of one's chakra and maintaining its control is this: where I stand, I'm producing enough chakra to my feet to reinforce my position. For all technical purposes I am grounded when, in actuality, I am not."

Kakashi released himself, turning mid-fall to land square on his feet. He noted the little eyes following him, when he stood from his crouching position. "Now, instead of channeling that energy into the palms of your hands, you will now redirect your chakra flow into the bases of your feet, control it, and use that chakra control to walk up the walls."

That rare moment of silence soon turned into a ruckus of excited cheers. Iruka's class was revved up, determined, and Kakashi liked to see that. Running the risk of sounding like his dear friend Gai, Kakashi could see that the future of their village was secured, with the promise of generations able to harness the will of fire. Watching them now as they scattered back into their original positions, face to face with their group partner, Kakashi couldn't help but think about Sandaime-sama and his sensei, the Yondaime.

Standing in his position, watching the future of their village, did they ever have thoughts like this?

"So what's our stance?" Take stepped down from the platform. "How do we accomplish this, anyway?" he asked, annoyed and skeptic.

"The same as before," Kakashi shrugged, which proved to irritate Take even more. "You need to concentrate on focusing that chakra downwards. Then manage to contain a percentage of that chakra into your feet. With this method, you can climb any hard surface as though you were simply walking down a road," he told the entire class. "The very same method is then heightened to walk on water. However, I will not be teaching you that lesson."

The students pouted in unison, but Kakashi couldn't find it in him to care. With any luck, Iruka would walk through the class door, any second now, and rescue him from the tedious task of teaching.

"You do not need partners, but keep in mind that the hand sign is vital to developing and manipulating your flow of chakra," Kakashi muttered mindlessly, flipping through the pages of his recently reopened Icha Icha. It never even occurred to him to once acknowledge the small pug resettling himself against the desk.

"Please, tell me this isn't what you've been dealing with all morning?"

Kakashi didn't answer.

"Hey, I'm talking to ya!"

"Oh…? Did you say something, Pakkun?" Kakashi muttered, skimming a page with a fleeting eye.

Pakkun eyed his human wearily, trying to forgive the young man's insufferable personally but failing miserably. He then took notice of the familiar dark green paperback covering of Kakashi's book and grew curious. "What happened to Iruka-sensei's rule about you not having any Icha Icha near the Academy?"

"It was never a rule, but a friendly recommendation," Kakashi stated dryly, his gaze widening over a particularly provocative paragraph. "Even if there was a rule," Kakashi added, "what makes you think I would not break it in his absence?"

"Aren't you concerned about the consequences?" Pakkun asked, flinching with the mere thought of what thunderous volumes and quick-tempered acts of violence Iruka could and would bestow upon the unusually ignorant jonin.

"Like Iruka-sensei scares me," Kakashi lied, scoffing as he flipped another page.

"Sure," Pakkun rolled his eyes, watching the class. He saw a redheaded kid climb to his feet, cradling his head, and had to wonder if a particular silver haired masked man had anything to do with why the boy was on the floor to begin with. "Where's Iruka-sensei, anyway?"

"He was called away to an urgent meeting," Kakashi answered, unfazed. "He left me in charge of teaching the day's lesson to his students." He looked over the edge of his book briefly, catching Take practicing the exercise, just like everyone else. There was a bit less determination in his stance, less strain, and more calm and focus than any of the other children.

"Well that's good," the pug muttered.

Kakashi narrowed his eye, curious about Pakkun's statement. "How is that good?" he frowned, but Pakkun didn't respond. The jonin went on reading his book, every now and then taking the time to assess the progress of Iruka's students. The thought occurred to him that kids this young were, perhaps, too eager and would attempt to walk the walls before they were fully prepared. This thought took shape the moment Tsuki took a spot beside Take and joined in on the activity. "Don't rush it," he warned, gaining the students' attention. "I know you're all eager to walk the walls, but keep in mind that you'll fall without the proper control and, most likely, break your neck." He ended with a happy eye-smile.

The students gulped.

"Having fun, traumatizing their childhoods?"

"Maa, I am trying," Kakashi said whimsically, book shoved back in his face, "but they're making it so difficult. They're sharp kids and driven, too."

"Harassing a ninken is hardly a focused endeavor," the pug grumbled bitterly. He couldn't blame the little pups, though. He was, after all, a stunning sight to behold. With that thought in mind, Pakkun smirked, knowing that all those little pink hands couldn't get enough of him. Then his thoughts turned sober again, reminding himself of the distracted jonin sitting beside him. "Hey, there's something I wanted to discuss with you," he said.

"What's that?" Kakashi asked, with his attention split between the ninken and the novel.

"It's about Iruka-sensei."

"What about Iruka-sensei?"

"Don't tell me you didn't notice," Pakkun grumbled, lowering his voice. The change in tone caught Kakashi's attention. He lowered his book and turned towards the pug. Pakkun frowned, as the curiosity expressed in Kakashi's wide eye was upsetting. He would have hoped that Kakashi would have noticed something off-putting, concerning Iruka-sensei. "Yesterday, after his classes here, at the Academy, where did Iruka-sensei go?"

"He goes to the mission room for desk duty," Kakashi said simply, his voice equally conserved. "That's no different from any other day. It's his daily routine."

"I know that," Pakkun growled. "After desk duty, Iruka went straight to your offices to assess his assistant duties."

"Yeah, and you and the rest of those backstabbing mutts turned him against me—"

"Then he went home—with you tagging along, mind you."

"So?"

"So?" The word was bitter on the pug's tongue. "What do you mean 'So?’?” Pakkun circled around angrily, frustrated with Kakashi's nonchalant attitude. "Iruka-sensei works eight hours here, eight hours in the mission room, and then he spends the rest of his nights dealing with you. He even let your ninken sleep in his bed, and you say 'So'?"

"Does this have a point, Pakkun?"

"Iruka-sensei didn't sleep last night and, with how low his energy levels are, I doubt he's slept much in the last few days. I thought he was going to faint, this morning," Pakkun frowned, staring down at his paws as they padded over the wooden surface of Iruka's desk. Every now and then his tail would beat against what could only be Iruka's pencil cup, the sound of grinding pens and pencils reaching Kakashi's astute hearing.

"I don't know why it took me so long to notice, but Iruka-sensei is practically depleted of energy."

"I know. He's disguising his signature."

"What…?"

"I said," Kakashi closed his book against his lap, "he's disguising his signature. I noticed it earlier, in class. At some point, he lost focus and didn't have the energy to disguise his lack of energy. It left me wondering why he would want to disguise something like that, in the first place." Kakashi tapped his chin thoughtfully. Pakkun, however, could think of several reasons why Iruka would want to disguise his low energy levels in front of a jonin who prided himself on being strong and able for any given situation.

The small ninken padded forward, pressing his front paws against Kakashi's thigh. "Do me a favor, Kakashi, and try not to overwork Iruka-sensei." His stern glare suddenly morphed into worry. "It seems like he's got a lot on his plate, including you and your torment. Maybe he's taking Tsunade-sama's passing harder than we thought. Whatever the reason may be, cut Iruka-sensei some slack, and try not to scare away the one person that can tolerate you for an abnormal amount of time."

The jonin sat quietly, considering what Pakkun had to say.

Undoubtedly, the emotion in the pug's eyes was worry, accompanied by the same expression Kakashi could have sworn he saw from the ninken that morning. "What's with you?" Kakashi submitted. "I would think you were Iruka-sensei's ninken, if you weren't already mine."

Pakkun growled at the jonin, swatting him with his paw. "Sometimes I wish I was," he sneered, earning an eyeful scowl from Kakashi, "but I always take care of the people that take care of me. Maybe you should start doing the same."

"Hey, genius." Kakashi and Pakkun looked up, thrown off by what they saw. Above their heads appeared a rather smug looking Take, kneeling against the ceiling.

"Well, looks like there are some sharp kids in here," Pakkun gasped, his jowls struggling to stay shut.

Kakashi shot from Iruka's desk, breaking the concentration of the students around him. When their gazes followed the Hokage's, a ripple of high-pitched gasps rippled through the classroom.

Tsuki couldn't stop from gawking, staring back and forth, between where Take was now and where he used to be. "Whoa…! Take, when did you get up there? How did you get on the ceiling so fast?"

Take stared back at Tsuki, with a broad smile Kakashi didn't think the boy was capable of expressing. Unlike his partner, the jonin was not impressed. He should have been, but he wasn't. He wasn't irritated by how Take seemed to taunt him further, hanging upside down. Kakashi shot from Iruka's desk, not because he was angry or astonished but because he felt a rather undeniable bout of fear suddenly coarse through his bloodstream. With his Icha Icha lying forgotten on the desk, gloved hands remained empty and prepared to catch the boy, if he were to fall. Then Take fell from the ceiling, in the same manner Kakashi had, also landing square on his feet. That self-satisfaction on his face quickly turned into his signature scowl, accompanied by crossed arms.

"How about that, Hokage-sama?" Take chuckled. "I bet you didn't expect a pre-genin to be able to do that. Did you?"

Kakashi blinked, trying to comprehend that unwarranted worry.

"Yeah, I thought you'd be speechless."

"Nothing leaves me speechless, anymore," Kakashi sighed heavily, collecting himself, ignoring the confused glare Pakkun gave him, while reaching back to grab his Icha Icha. "I've seen anything and everything, in every aspect of life," he droned on, shoving the book back into his pocket. "There are things I've seen in battle that would stun you to silence and leave you scarred for life." He looked down at the boy, a dark and dangerous frown lying beneath his mask. "I've seen technique that can leave one breathless, so don't presume you walking about the ceiling without falling would leave me speechless. In fact, it's nowhere near impressive enough."

Take stood, silently fuming.

"Nee? You've got nothing else clever to say?" he chuckled falsely, reaching out to ruffle Take's wild mane of hair. "You are just a little boy, nothing more. I could destroy you. Don't ever think, for one second, you can outsmart me."

Kakashi failed to feel the eruption festering beneath his touch.

"I could destroy you too!" It all happened so fast that Kakashi didn't know what information to process first: Pakkun's barking, the children yelling, or the four-foot shrimp attempting to land a kick against his person. He blocked it with one arm. Take came at Kakashi again, this time with a punch to his throat, but the jonin caught Take's wrist with a firm grip. Kakashi was amazed by the boy's speed, even if it and his misguided force was being used against him. When Take twisted to try and land another kick to his skull, Kakashi couldn't help but commend the boy attempting to harm him.

A few more strategically made blows, and Take had yet to hurt him. Kakashi blocked every single hit and grew impatient with every passing second. Then he saw the unmistakable shine of carved metal being pulled from Take's pocket. He quickly dodged the kunai aimed at his head, snatched it from the boy's grip, grabbed him by his hair, and forced him up against Iruka's desk.

"Kakashi!" The jonin ignored Pakkun's growl, focusing on the hissing sound emitting from Take's throat. The boy tried to shove away, but Kakashi wrenched at the strands of hair in his grip until Take's hissing became a pained whimper.

"Watch yourself!" Kakashi chided, pressing the kunai's blade against the soft skin of Take's neck. "Watch it," he said coldly, lower now, "or you might do something you'll regret."

"I wouldn't regret killing you," Take spat.

"Oh no? And why is that, exactly? You have a lot of hate for a boy I've never met before. Nevertheless," Kakashi growled, ever so slightly, tipping the blade into Take's throat, "whatever your intentions may be, you have no idea how to execute them properly." He leaned forward, until he could see Take's hate staring back at him. "Better you stop whatever this is now, before you end up following a winding path of endless mistakes." The man frowned, gazing into those hardened pools of hazel.

"Trust me…I know what that feels like."

"KAKASHI! NO!" Iruka's petrified students, a stunned Pakkun, and an angry Take turned towards the classroom door, where Iruka himself stood shaking in horror.

Kakashi let up when Take turned his head, not wanting to accidentally cut the boy's throat. He slowly pocketed the weapon and stepped away from Iruka's desk.

"Maa, you're back."

"What the hell do you mean by that? Are you insane! Get away from him!" The younger man stormed in with murder written all over his face. His students scrambled towards the other side of the room and Pakkun jumped off the wooden surface to hide under the hysterical man's desk. "Take! Are you alright?" Take didn't respond but shook violently as he clutched the end of Iruka's desk in a vice grip. His face remained hidden from everyone, shrouded in darkness. Kakashi stepped back, but that didn't stop Iruka from shoving him out of the way unnecessarily. Frantically worried hands were placed on Take's shoulders, rubbing up and down to soothe his frozen state.

"Take?" Iruka chanced, hoping the little boy would respond. To his relief, Take soon turned and buried his face into Iruka's midsection. The chunin quickly wrapped him up in a tight embrace.

Kakashi watched Iruka's crazed glare search the room before, eventually, landing on him. Although, it wasn't the warm face of a worried teacher that greeted him, only the hateful gleam of a murderous chunin. In this fight or flight situation, Kakashi found himself incapable of escaping in time to avoid the wrath in those intense brown eyes.

"Early lunch break, today—everyone outside! NOW!" Iruka roared. He wasn't angry at his class, his students. No, Iruka thought heatedly. The only person stupid enough to make him want to lash out and fight him was the jonin staring back at him with a blank stare. "Everyone leave… please," he said calmly. "We'll resume the lesson after lunch. I think, right now, it's best for everyone to get a bit of fresh air."

Iruka's tone had softened considerably, much to the appreciation of his fear-induced students. As a collective group, they avoided Iruka's desk, their teacher and their masked Hokage.

"Bye Hokage-sama," a few of them whispered worryingly, as though they believed this to be their last encounter with the man.

Unlike his peers, Tsuki took a personal detour, stopping right in front of Kakashi. He beamed with a giant, stupid grin on his face. "I would just like to say, sir, you are the most awesome Hokage I've ever seen. Your lesson was amazing!"

"I'm glad you liked it," Kakashi shrugged, and he could swear the fire in Iruka's glare increased tenfold. He reached out, ruffled the boy's rowdy red hair, and then watched him run off to join the rest of the class. Then the classroom door shut close with an ominous 'click'.

It was just him, Iruka, Take, and that cowardly mutt he called a ninken hiding under Iruka's desk.

"Let me take a look at you..." Iruka knelt down, cupping Take's jaw with gentle hands. He checked for any injury, any indication that the boy was harmed in any way. He then searched those trembling orbs that grew watery as the seconds drifted by.

"Take, look at me. Did he hurt you?"

"I didn't hurt him," Kakashi responded, appalled that Iruka would even ask that.

"I wasn't asking you!" Iruka shot back, his eyes never wandering from the trembling boy in his grasp. "What happened?" he asked, hoping Take wasn't too choked up to tell him.

But an answer never came, as Take pulled away from Iruka and quickly ran from the room. Both men watched him go, confused and surprised.

Eventually, Iruka moved to shut the classroom door again and, when he did, turned on Kakashi with all the unrestrained hatred of a merciless enemy. "What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do any—"

"Shut up!" Iruka cut him off. "I don't want to hear it!"

"But you just said—"

"What did you do to my student?"

Iruka lashed out, charging forward to take a swing at Kakashi's head. His movements were much too slow and easily avoidable, so Kakashi managed to catch both of Iruka's wrists in a death-grip.

When each of the chunin's fists came at him to punch him in the face, he simply applied more force. However, this did nothing to quell Iruka's determination to physically hurt Kakashi in some way, shape, or form.

When nothing worked, the chunin quickly settled with pushing against the jonin with the force of his anger. "You were holding a kunai to my student's neck, and you tell me you did nothing? He's a child, Kakashi! What were you thinking? Were you even thinking at all?"

"In my defense, he—"

"I DON'T want to hear your excuses!" Iruka shouted, the hot breath of his words pressing firmly against the cloth of Kakashi's mask. "You were pulling Take by the hair...! Why would you do something like that? He was in pain!"

"Maybe he should get used to feeling pain, if he plans on becoming a shinobi," Kakashi stated coldly.

"What is wrong with you?" Iruka breathed, gawking in shock.

"There's nothing wrong with me," the jonin responded darkly. "I found myself in a situation where I was forced to defend myself, so I reacted accordingly. You can't expect me to go easy on an enemy."

"He's just a child!"

"And you can't expect a child to understand discipline, if you do not reinforce it." His eye searched Iruka's heated gaze, hoping that the chunin could accept and understand this reality.

"Sometimes it is necessary to be ruthless, if you want something to be understood. That is part of the shinobi way."

Kakashi let go, when the force of Iruka's quaking fists subsided. The fight in the chunin's demeanor drifted away, leaving only eyes of quiet fury. Kakashi could have smiled, seeing as the chunin was finally choosing sound reason over his own erratic emotions. It was logical, just, and part of the shinobi code that all soldiers were to obey. Iruka could be as lenient and as caring as he wanted to be, but he could not escape the rules of their world. Kakashi could see that Iruka knew this as well, if the defeat in those pools of complexity were any indication...

PUNCH!

Kakashi didn't anticipate it, just as he hadn't anticipated Take charging him with taijutsu that was above the average level of a pre-genin. The jonin's head turned, due to the force of a single blow. Admittedly, he was shocked. One beneath an eye-patch, one visible for the world to see, and both eyes bulged in disbelief. One side of his face deflated in pain, even the bone beneath his skin. All of this paled, however, when Kakashi realized it was Iruka who had just punched him.

"Don't ever put a hand on one of my students. Is that clear?" Iruka hissed, pointing a rigid finger at his face.

Kakashi noticed how the younger man's resolve didn't waver. He didn't blush or grow weak. Somehow, he found some unknown source of energy to force upon him. True, Kakashi usually fell on Iruka's bad side more times than anyone would be proud of, but he'd never seen Iruka beside him with such anger...such hatred.  
There was a vile feeling at the pit of his stomach Kakashi simply could not stomach, when Iruka looked at him that way.

"You didn't answer me," Iruka spat, pressing into Kakashi. Never mind that he was a Hokage. Kakashi couldn't blame Iruka for giving him exactly what he asked for. No special treatment, he insisted, something the jonin was sure to regret. "Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi answered, chiding himself for sounding…obedient. Yet he couldn't help the guilt forcing him to submit. He thought back to what Pakkun said, about Iruka and his low energy reserves. The younger man exerted more energy through his emotions than one would exert in the most exhausting taijutsu training. Then he taught an eight hour class of ten-year-old brats and that, Kakashi learned, was no easy feat. Then Iruka spent another eight hours working a desk duty shift. Did he really need to make it worse, just to prove again that he was right and Iruka was wrong?

Kakashi wasn't harming Take. He was teaching him a lesson.

He could go on, pushing for another argument and Iruka, a tired but proud chunin, would push back until Kakashi ended up doing or saying something he'd regret.  
Like now.

Maybe the best thing Kakashi could do was yield. "Mm, Iruka-sensei...you know I would never put your students in harm's way." Iruka turned away, his back facing his Hokage. Kakashi didn't know whether to consider this a good sign. After all, Iruka was no longer yelling at him.

"You are nothing but harmful," Iruka griped, shaking his head. "I'm still so angry at you right now, I don't know what to do with myself so don't think that, for one second, I've forgiven you," he scowled, turning back and stepping forward.

"Who said I was sorry?" Kakashi scoffed, also stepping forward.

"Excuse me?" the chunin hissed acidly. "You better be sorry."

Their unwavering gazes were inches from one another. Kakashi stepped even closer, until the bridge of Iruka's nose nearly touched the fabric beneath his own.

"I'm no—"

"Hey, Iruka, I need t—"

Iruka stepped away but Kakashi simply looked up, as he was not so easily startled. To the jonin's surprise, it was one of his former students staring back at them. "Good morning, Naruto," he greeted the young jonin hanging by the door.

"Oh...! K-Kakashi-sensei," Naruto breathed, his bright blue eyes growing wide. It was apparent that he didn't expect to see his jonin sensei there, either.

"H-hey, Naruto," Iruka greeted with uncertainty. He managed a strained smile, even when his eyes darted frantically back and forth between Naruto and Kakashi. "What's up?"

"What's Kakashi-sensei doing here?" Naruto asked.

"I—"

"I asked him to be my guest for today's lesson. I felt Kakashi-sama—sorry—Kakashi-san most suited to demonstrate chakra control, and my students would pay a lot more attention to the Rokudaime than me," Iruka laughed. It was a hollow laugh, in Kakashi's opinion.

"Naruto!" a gruff voice emitted from beneath Iruka's desk. Three pairs of eyes watched as a small body of fur jumped from Iruka's chair to the top of the table. The pug beamed, not knowing the last time he was ever so grateful to see Naruto. "Long time no see, pup," he smirked, silently praying the boy was in no rush to leave. Pakkun didn't want to be stuck in a room with Iruka and Kakashi, not right now. He saw the fire in Iruka's eyes, when the chunin charged into the room. He had slumped away in misery, knowing Kakashi would only push Iruka until all that was left of him was an angry, yelling wreck.

"Hey, Pakkun," Naruto gave the dog a slight grin. "Is everything alright?" he asked, looking between his two former senseis. He could be really dense and unobservant at times, but even Naruto couldn't ignore the danger in the air. His former Academy sensei radiated with quiet rage, the kind that always blew up in his face when he least expected it. He knew that smile and that laugh to be warning signs of Iruka's wrath. "Were you hiding?" he asked Pakkun, trying to understand the situation. It troubled him to think Iruka was upset, especially when Naruto knew how hard the man worked to make his classroom a warm and welcoming environment.

"Don't be ridiculous," Pakkun chided. "I'm a ninken. I don't hide."

"Well that doesn't sound very reassuring," Naruto breathed.

"Not to worry, Naruto," Kakashi grinned, reaching back to scratch the back of his head. "Everything is alright."

Iruka gave Kakashi one last warning look. "I'm sorry, Naruto," the chunin moved towards the blonde, "Things have been a bit...hectic. I just sent the students out for their lunch break," he chuckled again.

"That's good," Naruto said, but the cheer in his voice was missing. Kakashi, Iruka, and Pakkun noticed something rather off about Naruto's smile. It was almost as if he wasn't smiling at all. He was unusually subdued, much to Kakashi's curiosity, and the subtle clenching of his fists told the older jonin that something rather unsettling had occurred.

"Something's wrong," he voiced.

"No," the boy shook his head, "It's, uh…" Naruto fought hard to not even look at Kakashi, which only managed to heighten the man's curiosity. "I need to talk to you about something," he told Iruka, "something, something about..." he paused, his gaze steering clear of the Hokage. "I-I need to talk to Iruka in private, about something."

"Oh." Iruka placed a reassuring hand on Naruto's shoulder. "I understand," he smiled sadly, knowingly. He offered Naruto a broad smile, hoping that the blonde would smile back.

A smile never came. Naruto's eyes were fixed on the floor, as though he could see the thoughts on his mind taking form right there, in the center of Iruka's classroom.

"Do you have time, Iruka?"

"Of course I do," Iruka said weakly, shelving away the last of his anger.

Kakashi was bound to accost him later this evening, so he could wait until then. If the jonin was hungry, he wouldn't feed him. If he wanted to laze about in his apartment, Iruka would kick him out. The chunin would find comfort in spending the night accompanied with caring, well mannered, and entertaining ninken, knowing their human would be gone, somewhere else. He didn't care where.

"It looks like the students are going to have a longer lunch break, today," he sighed.

"Thanks."

"Kakashi-san was just... leaving." Iruka frowned, turning to find the other man gone. He was faced only by a class of dejected children moping around beyond his classroom window.

 

* * *

 

 

"So that's where you were," Yamato smiled. "Who knew?"

"Who knew, what?" the Copy Nin griped, leaning against the bar counter.

"You, helping others, teaching children…" Yamato lifted his cup of sake to his lips, downing more of its contents. "So this is what you do on your spare time, Kakashi-senpai. Instead of making excuses for why you're always late, you should just tell the truth. " Kakashi shrugged, ignoring Yamato's jest and self-indulged laughter. He scanned the bar, noted patrons were scarce this afternoon, which suited Kakashi just fine. His journey here was filled with curious stares from villagers still unused to seeing him as the Hokage. He wasn't just another jonin. Now Kakashi was the Hokage and, for some reason, it made him appear different to them.

"Am I wrong then?" Yamato beamed, in light of Kakashi's silence.

"You really do go about the village, helping old ladies and doing other great deeds for helpless villagers?"

"I think you're letting your imagination get the best of you, Yamato-san," Kakashi glared. He sent two fingers into the air, calling on the bartender to fill his cup with a second round of sake. The bartender, an old and graying man, smiled and bowed before leaving Kakashi in peace. He was, perhaps, the only villager who managed to interact with the Hokage without staring obsessively. Lifting his cup to his masked face, Kakashi could now understand why Tsunade-sama drank so much, if the obligations and consequences of being of Hokage were any indication. Then again, she drank like a fish before she ever made Hokage, so…

Maybe Kakashi was finding a new vice.

He knew drinking to be one of Yamato's favorite pastimes, which is why it was so easy to find his fellow jonin. Despite his low tolerance, Yamato didn't mind the few odd drinks, even in the middle of the afternoon. Maybe it would do Kakashi well to spend more of his time here, with Yamato, erasing his hectic days with a stiff drink. "For someone of your deductive skills, you would think the Academy would be an obvious place to look for me."

"Why," Yamato turned, also leaning against the bar counter, "…because Iruka-sensei is there?"

"Next time, simply look for the chakra signature that is fluctuating with annoyance."

"I wasn't looking for Iruka-sensei. I was looking for you, Kakashi-senpai." Yamato earned a hard stare from the other man, but he smiled in response.

"That's not funny."

"It a little funny," Yamato chuckled, taking another drink.

He called the bartender over for his sixth round of sake.

Kakashi watched as Yamato thanked the bartender, and the bartender smiled and bowed and went about his own business. The moment felt genuine, normal, as though nothing had changed.

The air was humid and thick, but the cool breeze blowing in through the door flaps helped combat the heated enclosure. Turning on his stool, Kakashi looked down towards the sunny road outside and watched the pedestrian footsteps pass by. Some were of little children, much too young to be enrolled in the Academy, but most of the footsteps came from men and women going about their daily routine. Kakashi envied them, not knowing what the next day would ask of him.

"Sadistic…" Kakashi muttered, imagining a rather self-satisfied chunin smiling back at him.

"What was that, Kakashi-senpai?" Yamato leaned over, the ceiling light revealing a faint blush on his face.

"I said 'Sadistic', as in, Iruka-sensei is sadistic," he said thoughtfully, taking another drink. "When he agreed to be my personal assistant, he decided he would keep my daily activities to himself and tell me whenever he chose to."

"Why?"

"He's more manipulative than you think."

Another bout of comfortable silence.

The two men continued to drink, until another round was given to them both. Just like the old days, Kakashi thought, when he had his own Anbu team. He couldn't remember a night or assignment that wasn't filled with either bloodshed or copious amounts of alcohol.

Among his team, Yamato had been the one he grew most attached to. The other man was dedicated to his job, to a respectable fault, but didn't take himself too seriously. He always made for good conversation, not at all intimidated knowing that Copy Nin Kakashi was his superior, and he never hesitated to disagree with Kakashi, even when the other jonin always had the final say. In fact, Kakashi couldn't even remember the names of his other Anbu team members. There was just Yamato.

Kakashi didn't value the input of many people, but Yamato was the exception. "Iruka was angry, angrier than I've ever seen him before." He turned back towards the other man who was nursing his drink, much to Kakashi's annoyance.

"Oh, I bet," Yamato muttered quickly. "No offense, senpai, but I don't think anyone would be foolish enough to threaten one of Iruka-sensei's students and think they could escape the crossfire…" Yamato paused, noting the defensive glare in Kakashi's eye.

"I didn't threaten one of his students," Kakashi drawled.

"From what you told me, it kind of sounds like you did."

"I was defending myself." Kakashi held his cup in both hands, staring into the empty white porcelain in consternation. "Besides, the boy needed to be disciplined. His potential is great, Yamato," he gave the other man a side glance. "It's rare to have someone with that power not even be aware of it."

"Naruto…there's Naruto," Yamato mentioned, "and wasn't Sasuke-kun a—"

"Sasuke was a genius and nothing more." Kakashi looked off, towards the shelves behind the bar counter, all equipped with a variety of liquors. The jonin could feel an unwavering stare burning into the side of his face but knew that, if he ignored it long enough, it would go away. It did.

The two fell into another bout of silence, one as stiff and as humid as the air seeping through Kakashi's mask.

"So…How much trouble do you think you're in?"

Kakashi frowned. "I need something stronger."

 

* * *

 

 

Somewhere on the outskirts of Konoha, where the leaf village's maximum security prison stood proudly on a mountain of land, stood a fairly young man huddled in a cloak. The evening wind was cold and uninviting, speaking of another storm that was sure to come. He stared at the setting sun, before returning to the interior of the institution.

In fact, the building only served to usher in those feelings and emotions he learned to suppress long ago. Memories, trials and hardships, he would have rather not thought about...everything came back, like a floodgate in his mind had been released. As he walked through the dark corridors, he wondered if a jutsu had been cast to force prisoners to relive the adversity in their lives. If that was the case, then Iruka couldn't think of a more terrible kind of torment.

"Go that way," pointed a guard.

"Thank you." Iruka gave a polite nod.

He followed the directions given to him by the guards on duty, passing by other maximum security cells that were said to house some of Konoha's most dangerous and insane prisoners. Yet he didn't hear the violent yells or crazed screams of hardened criminals. In this ward there resided only broken men, torn from society and justly punished for their crimes. Iruka quickly shrugged away that last thought but knew he couldn't compromise his beliefs just because a person he cared about, someone he once thought to be a great and promising student, was locked away among other dangerous men.

"Just over there," ushered another guard, and Iruka thanked him accordingly. He turned another corner, until all that was left was one cell situated at the end of the corridor. It was isolated from the rest.

He turned back towards the one guard on watch, looking at the other man expectantly. "I forgot," the guard wheezed, "You're the one who requested a stool, am I right?" He chuckled and shook his head. "Suddenly this guy's the most popular prisoner in this joint. His visitors love 'em so much that they can't stand parting from him. You're just like that boy," the guard scoffed, turning back to hand Iruka a stool.

"Well, thank you for the added trouble," Iruka retaliated, frowning.

The guard looked him up and down and sighed, "I'll be at the front of the chamber, watching the rest of these low-lives. Call me, when you're ready to leave." Iruka thanked him once more, like a mindless mantra. This prison was taking a toll on his spirit. He could understand if even the most dangerous prisoner was now a shriveled shell of a man, cowering in the corner of his cell.

In hell.

Setting the stool on the dirt floor, he could only hope that, for this particular prisoner, that wasn't the case. He peered between the thick iron bars and searched for the younger man housed somewhere in that dark void of space.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.

The lighting of the ward was the shabbiest Iruka had ever seen. The one time he visited Mizuki, Iruka was surrounded by yelling criminals, brutal guards, and intolerable orange lighting. This ward, however, spoke of quiet agony and even quieter prisoners. Perhaps good lighting was the least of their worries. It didn't take Iruka long to find the prisoner he was here for, laying on a small, cheap cot. Months ago saw this pained soul returning to Konoha and, instead of tending to his silent pleas for help, the Elders quickly decreed that he be sent here.

"Please, say something...Sasuke," Iruka whispered but, if Sasuke was anything like the student he once knew, a response would be difficult to come by. Iruka glanced briefly over his shoulder, to ensure that the two of them were alone, before pulling a small rucksack from beneath his cloak. "I know it's been some time," Iruka went on to say, desperately needing to fill the silence. "…I should have visited sooner, but I honestly didn't think I'd have anything to say to you. And knowing you, I doubt you would want to hear mindless chatter from your former Academy sensei, anyway," Iruka said jokingly, but his merriment quickly faltered.

The younger man's unresponsiveness reminded the chunin of where he was and why. What small amount of spirit left in him quickly disappeared, lost somewhere in the darkness of Sasuke's cell.

"Naruto says you've stopped eating, Sasuke. Not that he really knows," Iruka shook his head, "since you don't talk to him. When he visits, you don't talk to him," Iruka reiterated, realizing the sadness in those words. "He says he can tell that you haven't eaten, just by looking at you, and he wanted to see if, maybe, I could do some good."

No response, much to Iruka's dismay. He didn't know what usefulness he could be, but he had to try. Naruto rarely came to him for help, always wanting to look independent and strong, but this…this was something entirely different. Naruto was not used to these kinds of situations, Iruka knew, and it was a credit to his character to come here knowing that even after months of visiting Sasuke, sitting where Iruka now sat, his former teammate was less and less likely to award the company.

Eventually, Sasuke would die.

Iruka stopped this train of thinking, gripping tightly at the rucksack in his hand.

"Naruto suspects that the reason you're not eating may be due to the guards not feeding you, so I-I brought you a care package..." Iruka extended the bag into the air, hoping beyond belief that Sasuke would suddenly leap out and take it from him. When he didn't, Iruka continued to talk but with a heavier heart. "It's just some ration bars a-and small foods...things that wouldn't perish. I brought some canteens, as well. It's not much, but I couldn't risk it being untrue, what Naruto had told me, so—"

"I should have known that dobe would resort to asking for your help." Iruka froze, watching Sasuke's haggard movements. Slowly, the dark haired prisoner pushed off against his cot and turned, accosting Iruka with a tired, and even darker, stare. He resettled himself, sitting with his legs crossed together and his arms stretched behind him. Even in the dark, Iruka could see that the Sasuke from just a few months ago had changed drastically for the worse. His eyes were sunken in, like endless obsidian pools. His hair fell into clumps, framing even sharper features. Sasuke's skin glowed paler than the moon, appearing to stretch over what little mass he possessed.

Still, despite the imperfections of prison life, Sasuke somehow managed to retain the demeanor of a dignified Uchiha.

"I should have known," Sasuke repeated with a low chuckle, his usual baritone voice hoarse from lack of use. "I should have known that ignoring that idiot wouldn't get him to leave me alone. Instead, he sends in back-up."

The bag in Iruka's hand fell to the ground. He shot forward, gripping the metal bars and feeling the vibrations of a very potent jutsu. It was meant to drain the prisoners of their chakra, Iruka knew. Their life force. The stronger the prisoner, the stronger the depletion. The drain was taking hold of what strength he had left, but Iruka couldn't imagine the agony Sasuke, a high level shinobi, was going through.

"I would advise you to get away from the bars. I'd say they do their job exceedingly well." Iruka quickly did as he was told and slumped back against the stool. He was short of breath and weaker than ever before. He heard movement but felt too weak to even lift his head. Every nerve in his body clenched in agony, and the chunin thought the slightest movement would be his last.

His lungs cried for oxygen, but the air was thick, too thick to breathe, and the pressure of gravity threatened to crush his very soul. Sitting there, in that prison, Iruka thought he was going to die.

Then everything stopped. Iruka leaned forward, sucking in all the oxygen his body so desperately craved.

"Imagine feeling like pain and suffering is the only thing you've ever known. That it is inevitable, every waking moment, haunting your nightmares, and yet never being showed the mercy of death. Tch… and that idiot expects me to want to waste what energy I have talking to him."

"Sasuke?" Iruka glanced up to see Sasuke Uchiha sitting on the edge of his cot, staring back at him.

"Iruka-sensei," Sasuke nodded. His face, a shadow of its former youth, remained void of all emotion. "Long time no see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed ^_^


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ibiki gauges Kakashi's merit as Hokage as the two meet over a matter of great importance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some chapters, like this one, might read as dated and based on an interpretation of where I thought Naruto might go at a certain time. After I've finished re-posting and update the story, I hope to incorporate more of what happens at the end of the manga series.

The Rokudaime sat at the end of a long table, his one visible eye perusing his environment. If the jonin had ever seen a deathtrap...Morino Ibiki's interrogation rooms were just that. He felt the heat of the torch flames reaching out, burning the air as it lashed out at his exposed skin, and heard the rustle of worn shackles ghosting over the walls—victims to their own weight in bolted stainless steel. Kakashi looked closer and hummed, easily spotting the specs of dry blood caking every spear, sword, kunai, and chain that was mounted on the chamber walls, like trophies of an unspoken war.

"Well...I had to see it for myself."

Kakashi tilted his head to the side, so to see beyond the book resting upon his palm and kneecap. There, in all his horrifying glory, stood Ibiki with a heavy-handed grip on the double-plated chamber door.

"Ibiki-san," Kakashi greeted lightly, "I didn't hear you come in. It speaks volumes toward your prowess in silent ambushes." The taller, larger, and broodier man stepped forward, to where Kakashi could see the faint shadows of Ibiki's facial scar tissue in the dim torchlight. Those markings alone spoke volumes of what the man was capable of and what sacrifices he made servicing his village.

"Too engrossed in your reading, I presume," Ibiki sighed, already knowing the answer to that question. The commanding officer of Anbu's Torture and Interrogation Force caught sight of the Hokage with his legs crossed, his feet hanging on the edge of his torture board, and one eye fixed on an overturned hand and knew his renowned junior was reading a book from his equally notorious novel collection. "It doesn't take keen observation to know when Hatake Kakashi has gotten carried away by one of Jiraiya-sama's novels."

"No?"

"No," Ibiki shook his head, as the most sinister of smiles graced his scarred features. "It only takes a brief study of history to know that Hatake Kakashi is rarely seen anywhere without a questionable piece of literature attached to his person."

"Like you haven't read it, Ibiki-san," Kakashi replied, gazing idly at the page pressed between his thumb and forefinger.

"True but, unlike you, I have the decency to fulfill my literary appetite within the confines of my home."

"I thought this was your home."

"Do you intend on desecrating the sanctity of my table for much longer?"

"I don't know what you mean," Kakashi replied coolly but, nevertheless, lowered his legs from the table. "I just felt the need to stretch my legs... I'm quite certain that this table has seen quite a bit of stretching in its days."

The jonin pushed away from the surface in a seat meant for an interrogator. The rest of the floor, built on cold stone, stood bare. Kakashi imagined himself flanked by two other tokubetsu jonin, sitting in that pleasantly cushioned armchair while presiding over the extraction methods commonly used among the Fire Country's most notable shinobi village. That would make him Ibiki, reigning down on enemies with the iron fist of the Hidden Leaf, intimidating men and women who would wish nothing but ill-will toward its villagers.

"This time, at least, the noise level is kept to a minimum."

"Good to see you've suffered through not being at your inauguration ceremony well," Ibiki clipped, meeting the other man halfway across that barren stone. With swiftness uncommon to the average jonin, Ibiki carried his bulky girth mere inches before his new Hokage. He looked the slighter man up and down. "I never expected to see you donning the garbs of a Hokage, Hatake Kakashi."

"Your disbelief has manifested in what context, Morino Ibiki? Is it that I'm Hokage or that I look like one that disturbs you?" Kakashi asked in a voice equaled to Ibiki's monotone inquiry.

The two elite stared each other down, until there was nothing to observe but the soles of their shinobi-guard sandals. Kakashi's eye gazed coolly from the dark grey of Ibiki's uniform, to his solid stare and the bandana headband he wore to cover the many scorched puncture wounds that decorated his skull.

Ibiki grinned, a small curling of the lips at the corner of his scarred mouth. "This is going to be amusing. I can tell," he muttered, extending an unwavering hand. Kakashi reached up and gripped Ibiki's hand, expecting to receive the firm, sturdy shake that would match the commanding officer's strong characteristics. Ibiki did not disappoint.

"Good to see you, Ibiki-san."

"Likewise, Kakashi-sama." A jolt, Kakashi thought, before the end of another formal greeting. The title 'Sama' was as familiar to Ibiki's speech as it was, albeit spitefully, Kakashi's. Despite the unease felt from hearing another acquaintance address him with the higher title, Kakashi kept his nonchalant cool. "Though, I can't imagine why you're in here, when my offices are down the hall."

"I went out of my way to come here and sit among your museum of torture tactics," Kakashi answered, as if it was the most obvious explanation. "Why wait in an office, when I can entertain myself with the many ways you use to extract information?"

"And people call me sadistic," the darker man uttered, looking Kakashi over once more. "Follow me." Ibiki turned and walked away, accompanied by the heavy billow of his black overcoat and an undisturbed Hokage. Kakashi pocketed his book as the chamber door bolted close. "More surprising than that you are, indeed, the new leader of Konohagakure, is your punctual arrival, coupled by the acceptance you show by upholding the formal wear of a Hokage. Furthermore, when a few of my officers clarified that it was you who, willingly, entered this department by way of the front entrance and not an open window, I demanded they retrace your movements. They examined the security cameras installed by Mitarashi-san's unit and yet were unable to detect any foul play. No doppelgangers, clones, illusions, or any other disguises that would suggest someone with ill-intent had posed as the Hokage to gain access into the facilities."

"I arrive on time, and you have your men secure the integrity of my person."

"I couldn't risk the alternative, Kakashi-sama. Consistency in habits, however maladjusted, makes for easy identification in this department. But I don't have to tell you that." Kakashi's eye drooped, staring beyond the eerie grin on Ibiki's face, to focus on the conference room set out before them. "After you," Ibiki insisted, shutting the door behind them.

In this room sat another long table but one meant for discussion—not for the creativity of a madman.

"Please have a seat, Kakashi-sama. We have much to discuss."

Kakashi chose a seat from the dozen placed about the hardwood table. For him, the airier, brightly lit room and its remarkableness paled in comparison to the interrogation chamber. The pale green walls, functional furniture, and potted foliage Kakashi could do without. In contrast, there was something peculiar and dark, inspiring and provocative about Ibiki's interrogation chamber, so no matter how secluded he was, Kakashi never once felt completely alone. The walls, decorated as they were, spoke out to him, the warrior that he was. Every detail, from the spear to the sword, had a gory and unpleasant tale to tell, and there was no story in that chamber that was too dull to go unheard.

"Mm...I accept blame for the confusion I've caused, by my unfitting behavior, but entering through a window was out the question," Kakashi explained, staring at the two large windows situated on the other side of the table. An inactive morning stared back at him, equipped with empty department grounds, blue shadows, dewy patches of grass, and misty skies. "The interrogation rooms have no windows."

"Despite the burden of inconvenience, I should hope you decide it'd be kept that way. We wouldn't want to traumatize any passerby, now would we?" Ibiki chuckled, something frightening and gut-wrenching to the tokubetsu jonin's criminal subjects, his men, and many others unlucky enough to cross his path, in his voice...that Kakashi found unusually pleasant. Ibiki settled for a seat across from him, sitting with his hands clasped above the table. "Now that we are here, and it has been confirmed that you are not a fraud, there are a few matters of national interests that I must discuss with you."

"Oh?" Kakashi amused himself with ideas of what business Ibiki needed to discuss. Now that his duties as Hokage had been forcefully thrust upon him, permanently solidified in his mind, Kakashi was willing to explore all the possible subject matters to be broached between a chief and his commanding interrogation officer. None of them were light, and Kakashi remained under no illusion to the seriousness of this meeting. He thought, bitterly, that had Iruka not insisted upon his early arrival he would have arrived early regardless. As he knew was the case with his predecessors, a meeting with Morino Ibiki usually meant the difference between life and death.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Ibiki grouched out boisterously. In bustled a rather restless looking interrogation officer, holding a clipboard with an indistinguishable amount of paper attached to it. "What is it?" Ibiki asked, his urgent tone reacting to the urgency in the nameless shinobi's eyes.

The officer was delayed, however, when he realized the Rokudaime for who he was, addressing him with a timid stare. "Oh, Hokage-sama...!" The young, dark haired man bowed. "Good morning, Hokage-sama," he greeted, quickly modifying his initial response.

"Mori-san...!" The shinobi named Mori jumped, startled by his boss's voice. "State your purpose. As you can see, we are in a meeting."

"My apologies, sir," Mori-san bowed once more, "but the hour is up. What is to be done with Subject #2B384?"

"Have them returned to their cell. We'll try again, later." Mori left quickly, having received his orders, and Kakashi looked back to Ibiki, anticipating his own cue to leave.

"I believe that little interruption was relevant to what needs to be discussed this morning."

"I'm all ears," Kakashi sighed. "What decisions must I make?"

"Bear with me, Kakashi," Ibiki urged. "Like you, I feel you are incompatible with the makings of a Hokage but, for reasons that are, perhaps, less self-pitying than your own."

"Let it never be said that you are a man lesser advanced in the art of keen observation."

"I'm a man of good judgment, a man of honor and discipline, and I am a keen observer. You are roughly two years my junior, yet I feel we are years apart, Kakashi-sama. I respect you, of course, regardless of where we stand in rank, however," Ibiki paused, watching Kakashi for some kind of reaction. Much like himself, the newly appointed Hokage had an instinctual resolve for passivity. "When the Elders placed you before the village and you disappeared... My understanding was that, somewhere down the line, the same man who would risk turning a solemn ceremony into a joke would falter when forced to make a choice between what is right and what is necessary; what they feel and what is beneficial for the village."

"...I understand," Kakashi replied, maintaining his calm veneer.

"You do..." Ibiki could not disguise the hint of skepticism in his tone, Kakashi noticed, as he too was quite the keen observer.

He was also the Hokage and a conflicted one at that. Kakashi should have known Ibiki would see beyond the surface of meaningless appearances and mindless paperwork. Ibiki saw blood, just as he himself saw blood. More than the mundane responsibilities of a Hokage, as Iruka saw it, but the realities of shinobi life even Kakashi couldn't avoid. He knew the thoughts of a naïve Academy sensei to be something as bright and as airy as the conference room surrounding him now, but Ibiki's words held much more weight, like the shackles on his true walls.

"Why did you request this meeting?" It was more of a demand than a question and less of a demand than a diversion. Kakashi had no intention of meeting Ibiki to be lectured on the merits of his capabilities. "Tell me, Ibiki-san, what is it you would like to discuss."

"Yes, we should move on," Ibiki agreed, in measured tone.

Kakashi's hard stare remained bold and steady, knowing the other man wouldn't waste a second reading him for any signs of weakness. Detecting no trace of doubt, Ibiki gladly continue.

"As you are well aware, Kakashi-sama, the end of the Fourth Great Shinobi War has seen the Hidden Leaf village victorious against our enemies. Still, we are victims of war and open, vulnerable, to possible attack."

"I'm sure we're aware of those who pose a threat to Konoha," Kakashi chimed in, well within his realm of expertise. "If so I demand that they are placed in custody, until further notice."

"We've done so with those we've caught. Like Subject #2B384...she was an unwilling participant of Madara's army—one of many, as you know, who were placed under a powerful jutsu capable of controlling the human mind and an endless supply of chakra." Ibiki leaned forward, giving sight to the sculpted muscle trapped beneath his uniform and overcoat. His eyes, a pitch black, considered Kakashi in contemplation. "This is the time for further notice, Kakashi-sama. I know, it's a scandalous affair to inherit the situation from Tsunade-sama, but we must have a decision on what to do with these insurgents."

"What information have they given us so far?" Kakashi asked calmly, not at all troubled knowing that the burdens of Tsunade-sama's term had been passed on to him. It was not an uncommon occurrence but a condition Kakashi only had to accept. Not agree with or understand.

Ibiki shook his head. "They've informed us of nothing, sir. The mind control they've undergone could have taken months to achieve but, at this stage of permanence, they truly believe in their loyalty to Madara. They believe in his cause, and have survived, solely, to pursue his plans. Some are even under the delusion that he is still alive."

"I see."

"Furthermore, they refuse to give any information on the whereabouts of Yakushi Kabuto." Kakashi's eye narrowed in on that name, as he had had more than his share of run-ins with Orochimaru's former medic and right-hand man. His involvement in the war was something unexpected and trying but, during the final battle, Kakashi managed to defeat some few regenerated corpses of Kabuto's Edo Tensei. Even while heavily injured, Kabuto still managed to survive and escape. Kakashi knew that if there was anyone who posed a threat to Konoha that still lived, Kabuto remained at the top of that list.

"How long have they been in our custody?"

"We've held them, roughly, for ten weeks and three days."

"What's the general status of your interrogation unit?"

"They haven't wasted a second, extracting information: hideouts, plans, and strengths that are incorporated into the deepest crevices of their mind. I, of course, preside over the interrogation processes, regularly. I've put them through hell and back again. You can be sure of that."

"Duly noted. I would expect nothing less of you, Ibiki-san."

"Why thank you, Kakashi-sama," Ibiki nodded, as it was pleasing to hear his efforts being praised. "However, I must admit to some defeat, despite my unit's greatest efforts. We've still gained little intel and, by trying to reverse the strong mind control they're under, we may induce unnecessary damage...permanent damage, even death."

"How many are there?"

"We have forty of their numbers—all held in Konoha's prison facilities. How many are out there, still plotting, is a number I cannot deduce in good faith. The subjects we do have claim their numbers are large, but they never say more than some arbitrary amount," Ibiki frowned, his dark and brooding expression of discontent. The leather of his gloves squeaked under the constriction of his tightening grip. "I should say we were unlucky and managed to capture the group of mindless followers hell-bent on pleasing their leader."

"Then we'll just have to double our efforts and capture all of them, next time," Kakashi urged, his voice emitting in a dangerously low murmur.

"Of course, Kakashi-sama," Ibiki agreed, "but housing old meat, for the sake of controlling their numbers, can only rotten our core supply. Already, our department is hearing instigation of prison riots. Madara's followers have threatened to revolt and may incite others to follow suit." Ibiki stared at Kakashi carefully...watchfully. "I ask you, as the Hokage, to issue the appropriate measures that are to be taken next."

"...Eliminate them."

"Sir?" Ibiki sat upright, firmly seated.

Kakashi stood. "If they won't disclose the whereabouts of their numbers, the whereabouts of possible allies, or any additional information by now, then they never will."

"You are absolutely right, Kakashi-sama." Ibiki watched the other man turn away, pleased by the Hokage's verdict. In Kakashi's position, he would have made a decision that mirrored execution. True, death could be brought upon his subjects in an array of formidable ways. To eliminate, however, was an absolute term—a term that left little room for idle time or torture tactics. In essence, a chance for reversal.

Ibiki saw no hesitance in the Rokudaime.

"I expect the order to be carried out by the end of the day."

"Of course...we'll have their cells emptied for the next threat we come into contact with," the commanding officer guaranteed, rising from his own seat. Already across the room, Kakashi found that he cared very little for Ibiki's reassurance. "I must say, I didn't foresee this kind of response from you, Hatake Kakashi."

Kakashi froze, the palm of his hand resting on the brass door handle. His glare burned into the surface of the door, while he tried amusing his mind with the patterns embroidered into the dark wood but failing a great deal.

"What did you expect from me, Ibiki-san? Hesitation?"

"There is another matter that I would like to discuss with you; or, should I say, another captive?"

"Enlighten me."

"Subject #1U301: your former student, Uchiha Sasuke."

"...I have nothing to say on that matter."

"But you must," Ibiki insisted, accepting that the other man was unwilling to face him. He had to wonder what defeat, what uncertainty or hopelessness, had befallen Kakashi, at the mention of his former student. It was not something the larger man desired to see but more of something he expected in Kakashi. If Ibiki had once pegged the jonin properly, as he often judged others flawlessly, then Hatake Kakashi was still as loyal to those he cared for as he was to all of Konohagakure. "Uchiha Sasuke's execution date is drawing near. Do you not feel obligated to propose a compromise, before a decision some might consider extreme?"

"Maa...you are annoying me, Ibiki." Kakashi turned, which greatly satisfied the other man. He wanted another opportunity to read Kakashi, as easily as the man read the pages of Jiraiya's romance novels. But to Ibiki's dismay and surprise, the younger jonin left little to discern. Kakashi could have just as well been wearing his Anbu mask with such a daunting and expressionless gaze. "It was my understanding, Ibiki-san, that, as the attending executioner, you'd consider the Uchiha's guilt accounted for. From what I've observed, your interest in what I feel about the matter has little to do with where I stand and more to do with what compromises I am willing to make."

"I've read the records. I stood on that battlefield. I witnessed the extent of the opposing force's destruction—the destruction that he initially caused... It would have been irresponsible of me to not see the struggle within you, Kakashi, as you fought against him," Ibiki growled, growing frustrated with his superior. "Kakashi-sama, you have every right to want to save your former student from death, just as I have every right to anticipate or question your decisions, especially ones that might be compromised by personal conflict."

"Then be relieved, Commander. Uchiha Sasuke's fate has been sealed, and far be it from me to challenge the judgment of the Elders," Kakashi sighed, his hand against the door handle once more. "What takes place will take place. My feelings are irrelevant."

"Then I am relieved," Ibiki breathed, again satisfied with the provided response.

"You have my orders."

"Indeed, Kakashi-sama," Ibiki nodded slowly.

"Then I'll take my leave now."

"I insist you hear me out, one last time, before you go," Ibiki requested, aware of Kakashi's need to flee from the room. The various reasons as to why amused the tokubetsu jonin, yet his focus returned to the steely grey stare of Kakashi's one visible eye. "You never fail to surprise me, Hatake Kakashi."

"No?" Kakashi's tone was curt.

"No," Ibiki echoed, wearing a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "It is not common knowledge but, as a much younger shinobi, I was absolutely taken by your late father's career."

"You don't say," Kakashi droned, his half-lidded gaze leveled.

"The White Fang of Konoha was more than just a legend but a role model for a promising young shinobi like myself. He was grand, in his prime, and unmatched in strength. Now that I am much older and wiser, I see that his only flaw was compassion."

"Compassion."

Ibiki nodded, "His inability to do all that was necessary to bring about the success of his mission and, ultimately, all of Konoha. The shinobi archives address him as a contradiction and, having read through the archives, I can say that your father was, indeed, an indecisive genius. His more benevolent nature was at constant battle with the obligations required in every shinobi...the events leading up to his death give prime example to this analysis."

"Does this have a point, Ibiki-san?"

"Yes," Ibiki voiced, knowingly, "only to express my gratitude, knowing that this undesirable trait was not passed on to his son." Ibiki stepped forward, reaching up to clasp Kakashi's shoulder with a firm grip. "I assure you, my faith in you is unwavering, but not even the Rokudaime is above reproach."

"That is a fact that is growing more and more apparent, Ibiki-san," the younger jonin hummed, eyeing his companion wearily. "Can we agree that the meeting is over?" he asked, his left hand still gripping the door handle, slowly but eagerly nudging at the mechanism.

"Of course, Kakashi-sama," Ibiki shook his head again, reluctantly entertained by Kakashi's inability to endure his presence any longer. It was not something Ibiki would overlook, the fact that whenever a meeting of the highest importance took place, Hatake Kakashi was never among their numbers. Regardless, he gave the Hokage's shoulder a few apologetic pats. "I'll have the recorded transcript of this meeting sent to your office by the end of today..."

"No, don't send it there," Kakashi said quickly, much too quickly for Ibiki to disregard. "I'll have my ninken retrieve it at a later time. Make sure your officers are informed. We wouldn't want to confuse them again. Would we?" The lazy-eyed jonin opened the door, pleasantly staring back at the man who cleared another three inches over him. "Mm…after you. I insist."

"Thank you, Kakashi-sama."

Ibiki walked ahead and Kakashi followed suit. For a few moments, the two shared the same halls, passing other miscellaneous chambers and equally nameless tokubetsu jonin. It almost felt as though the meeting had not taken place at all, and Kakashi was eager to rid himself of the memory. He stared at Ibiki's back, for the duration of their procession, decidedly fascinated with images of what the commanding officer would look like with hair.

"Kakashi-sama."

"Ibiki-san."

A final nod was shared before the two went their separate ways. Kakashi continued his path towards the building's front entrance, while Ibiki detoured down another area of the department. It was morning, still, and Kakashi was certain that Morino Ibiki had a full day's work to attend to. By the time he was out the door and past the high fence that surrounded the interrogation department, the Icha Icha book in his back pocket had magically reappeared in his hand. He stared at its pages, seeing very little but dark lines and the unforgivable glare of daylight.

Kakashi blinked, blinked, and blinked again. The words ran across the pages, still as indecipherable as the time before he blinked.

"Hokage-sama!"

Kakashi looked up with muted interest, watching as two shinobi approached him: one with a mane of hair that defied gravity, as it extended like a crown of leaves, while the other wore his hair down and capped beneath a bandana hiate-ate. The former, with a bandage wrapped over his nose, stepped forward. The latter, with a corner of his face hidden beneath unchecked bangs, stood closely behind. Kakashi quickly recognized them as the two shinobi whose duty it was to monitor the comings and goings at the village gate.

"Kotetsu-san and Izumo-san, am I right?"

"Don't tell me you don't even remember our names?" The one Kakashi knew to be Kotetsu scoffed.

"For God's sake, Kotetsu, we're speaking to the Hokage. I know you don't care much about duty, but at least show some respect," Izumo murmured, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, make me look like the bad guy in front of the Rokudaime. Should I go into detail about how you can't even stay up during night shifts?"

"Is there something I can do for you two?" Kakashi interrupted, before the argument could escalate. Watching them hiss words at each other would have been delightfully distracting, except, watching them argue only reminded him of yesterday…his own dispute, equipped with a fairly aggressive Iruka.

"Alright, yeesh," Kotetsu growled, when Izumo pushed him forward. He was reluctant but did not resist. The chunin stared at Kakashi, wearing a widespread smirk beneath his bandaged nose. "We were Tsunade-sama's errand boys."

"Kotetsu…"

"My bad," Kotetsu shrugged apologetically, considerate of his friend's stern protest. "Let me correct that statement. We were Tsunade-sama's gophers—"

"You know what? Move…" Izumo shoved Kotetsu to the side and stood in his place. "Hokage-sama," he began, "the Godaime often enlisted our services to provide assistance with any business she herself could not complete. Though we mourn her death, we feel obligated—"

"You feel obligated," Kotetsu chimed in.

"We feel obligated," Izumo continued, "to offer our services in the same manner." He stared to the side, glaring at the other chunin.

With one last long blink, Kakashi closed his book. "Good," he said. "As it turns out, your assistance can be of some use. I doubt anything will amount to the projects Tsunade-sama set out for the two of you, but that's pending."

"Well, if you promise a light workload," Kotetsu thought out loud, "then you have my services, Hokage-sama."

"You have my services as well, Hokage-sama."

Izumo and Kotetsu bowed.

"Okay," Kakashi sighed, "but it isn't me you'll be assisting." He ignored their identical stares of confusion, his thoughts honing in on another easily flustered chunin.

"Hokage-sama, I don't understand," Izumo said.

"Iruka-sensei is my personal assistant. He could use your help."

"Wait. Did you just say Iruka, as in, Umino Iruka?" Kotetsu frowned, gawking at the Rokudaime. Like Kotetsu, Izumo appeared equally puzzled, much to Kakashi's curiosity. "Does Iruka know?"

"Why wouldn't Iruka know?" Izumo chastised the other man.

"Nee, now I remember," Kakashi said dryly, looking between the two. "You're acquaintances of Iruka's. He's mentioned the two of you before…" Kakashi tapped the tip of his chin. Kotetsu and Izumo, of course...Iruka had called them his friends, during some conversation or another. Kakashi couldn't keep track of every discussion he shared with the chunin sensei, as they covered a span of months...within an apartment Kakashi was no longer permitted to enter.

"I can't believe he would agree to be your assistant," Kotetsu breathed, staring disbelievingly at Izumo. "He did agree, right?" He asked, accosting Kakashi.

"I admit, I'm growing curious as to why this is shocking," Kakashi frowned.

"No reason," Kotetsu shrugged, regrouping with his chunin companion.

"Report to Iruka-sensei, immediately, and assist him in any way you can. I'm not Tsunade-sama, but my ninken tell me I've given Iruka-sensei a heavy workload, compounded with his shift duties and his role as an Academy instructor. So I want the two of you to relieve any undue stress."

Izumo stared at his Hokage blankly. "Your ninken?"

"Go."

"Yes, Hokage-sama!" Izumo bowed before hand-signing into a puff of smoke. Kakashi and Kotetsu watched the chunin disappear, staring at where Izumo once stood.

"Well, he's way too eager today," Kotetsu groused, yawning. "We were just heading out to our first shift, when we ran into you. So he thought it'd be a perfect opportunity to clear up this whole assisting the Hokage business. Personally, I could have gone without saying anything. But since it's Iruka…" Kotetsu paused, staring thoughtfully at the jonin. "Hokage-sama, I will assist Iruka to the fullest of my ability."

"I think Iruka-sensei would appreciate that," Kakashi replied, eyeing the darker skinned man. He took note of Kotetsu and had to wonder if this was actually an acquaintance of Iruka's. His sudden intrigue of the man was also unusual, but the way Kotetsu seemed unfazed by his status fascinated Kakashi.

"I think I'll walk to the Academy," Kotetsu said, measuredly, eyeing Izumo's empty spot with ill ease. "Hokage-sama," he nodded, burying his hands inside his pant pockets.

"Kotetsu-san," Kakashi replied, examining one of Konoha's gatekeepers in a whole new light. He had to keep reminding himself that this was an acquaintance of Iruka's, and any acquaintance of Iruka's surely wasn't worth the time of day. But he thought Iruka's friends would be dull pen-pushers, much like the Academy sensei—Izumo seemed to fit that profile. Kotetsu, however...he was a man of Kakashi's ilk, casual and carefree. What was he doing, hanging around shinobi like Iruka?

Iruka, with his do-good attitude. His punctuality. His ethics. His moral compass. With his formidable temper. His abidance to social norms. The way the chunin coddled his students and even managed to baby Kakashi's ninken in the same fashion. The way Iruka addressed others so formally, as though afraid to insult anyone—not that Kakashi recalled a time when Iruka had had a bad thing to say about anyone that wasn't true. The way Iruka mourned for those he cared about. Like Tsunade-sama. He either bottled it up or lashed out at unsuspecting bystanders, innocent jonin like him.

Iruka's pleasantries and constant provisions didn't make him a world renowned shinobi, like Kakashi. He was a school teacher, not an elite genius killer who had long ago drowned in the blood of his enemies.

Iruka wasn't like men like Kakashi. The chunin would never know what it felt like to end the lives of forty people with bare hands, weapons, or the utterance of a few words.

Iruka was flawed.

Iruka had compassion.

Kakashi suddenly didn't know what to do with himself. When he realized the book in his hand served him better as a paperweight, he returned it to his back pocket. He looked around, noticing that nothing about his surroundings had changed within the last few minutes. The sky was still a murky blue, riddled with noncommittal clouds. Every now and then, the sun would peak through, as if to tease Konoha with the promise of a sunny day. The large shadows sitting under their appropriate buildings remained a cold shade of blue. The dirt roads were still riddled with dewy patches of green but remained, otherwise, unoccupied.

Kakashi was alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed ^_^


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi confronts Iruka in hopes of reconciliation... It does not go as planned.

"Dismissed!" He heard a stern sensei voice declare, and the classroom door flew open. Kakashi saw clear across the room before his gaze fell upon the horde of children standing at his feet. They were all embellished with ecstatic smiles. Their relieved, wide-eyed stares made it effortless to notice that one signature scowl missing among their numbers.

"It's the Hokage-sama!" Tsuki gasped excitedly, much to Kakashi's chagrin.

He should have known that, from the lack of rambunctious children playing on the training fields, Iruka's class was being held in captivity. Their deprived stares, desperately trying to smile under the weight of defeat, gave evidence to the torture Iruka had put them through. Starving spirits, Kakashi thought.

Having experienced Iruka's students firsthand, he wouldn't rule out that the class might have behaved in a way that would bring on the full force of Iruka's wrath: long lectures, tedious tasks, yelling, and more lectures. Yet Kakashi couldn't suppress the suspicion that the students suffered needlessly, because of his own behavior.

"Hello." He smiled, running a tentative hand through his unruly hair.

Kakashi knew what it felt like to be the recipient of such unbalanced vengeance. He recalled days spent rebuilding Konoha, accompanied by a reconstruction team, with Yamato and Iruka at his side. The team provided a larger workforce, Yamato provided wood, and Iruka supplied the incentive to keep working: not having to answer to Iruka for slacking off. It was Tsunade-sama's idea to place Iruka there, like her own personal attack dog.

"You."

"Bye Hokage-sama," Tsuki bolted, racing past Kakashi. The rest of the students quickly followed after him, running down the deserted hallway like a restless mass of liberated children.

Kakashi watched them flee, so to save his self from confronting the surge of animosity pulsing from within the room. He felt it, prickling the short silver strands at the nape of his neck. Kakashi remained resilient enough, until the very last pair of brat-sized sandals disappeared around a corner. He couldn't avoid the fire for much longer, the one consuming the back of his robes. Before he could be fully engulfed from behind, Kakashi turned, his eye smiling.

"Good afternoon, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi greeted cheerfully, as cheerfully as he could, until he felt the strain against his mask. There, behind his fiery throne, stood Iruka, with his arms crossed against his chest. His eyes were fixed on Kakashi: stern and unblinking, coupled with a glare where the flames burned within. The jonin thought it quite an eerie sight to see. Nevertheless, he glanced from the chunin to beyond, examining the rest of the room. After all, walking into a hostile situation without vigilant observation and cautioned steps spelled suicide.

The jonin peered in, casually searching for any calculated traps before moseying through that threshold. The class looked more intact than the day before, when the desks and chairs were toppled over. They now stood upright and on their appropriate platform. Student work that Kakashi previously had paid little mind to still decorated the classroom, and the floor remained a quickly fading polished wood. Apart from the papers cluttering the chunin's desk and the green vest hanging over Iruka's chair, nothing stood out as exceptional or even hazardous to his person.

The jonin saw no traps.

The classroom looked the same as the day before, complete with walls of pale blue and the distinct smell of airborne chalk dust.

"What are you doing here?" Iruka inquired, in a dangerously low tone that was uniquely his own.

Kakashi stepped into the room and shut the door behind him, mentally cringing. It had been his intention to emerge undetected. Had it not been for Tsuki's outburst, he could have easily walked in and waited to catch Iruka unawares. The chunin would have been too preoccupied with work, muttering to himself about miserable grammar or lazy sentences, like an incomprehensible madman. Iruka's habit of talking to himself while working would have only magnified, in light of his irritated state. And from where Kakashi stood, the chunin was positively irritated.

"I brought a peace offering," Kakashi replied, revealing the takeaway tote bag held behind his back. He took a few more cautioned steps towards Iruka, presenting the bag like a shield of armor. He would never admit to his deliberately slow steps or the way his arms extended into the air, carrying the package a safe distance in front of him.

Kakashi simply smiled and avoided Iruka's stare, instead opting to study the intricacies of the trajectory lesson drawn out on the chalkboard. "Mm," Kakashi hummed, staring at the example graph.

"Make sure to elaborate on the importance of speed, when it comes to taking advantage of angles. Accuracy makes homing onto even the fastest target that much more effective."

"I'll keep that in mind." Iruka spoke evenly, but his tone remained decisively sharp. No longer preoccupied with the nuisance of smiling, Kakashi stood alert and awaited the moment the younger man would take the bag from him. Iruka turned around, instead, reaching for the eraser at the end of the chalk dispenser. "You can set that on my desk," he snapped over his shoulder, as it jerked erratically under the movements of his arm. Kakashi watched him purge the chalkboard of all words, lines, and numbers.

"Certainly." Kakashi set the tote bag on the edge of the desk, taking the insurmountable amount of paperwork into consideration. How fitting would it have been for the jonin to appear, offering the unstable chunin a takeaway meal, only to drench Iruka's desk in whatever juices just happen to spill from the bag? A sudden wave of weary washed over Kakashi, while his mind overloaded on the vision and the fireball of shouting that was sure to ensue. He quickly pushed aside a pile of work to make room. "Here you go, Iruka-sensei. I thought you might—"

Iruka turned around, snatching the bag with reflexes that were unknown to Kakashi.

"Ne…?"

"What is it?" Iruka asked, peeling back the flimsy material and peering through the opening. Kakashi went to answer but was once again interrupted by Iruka's rather loud inspection. He watched him reach into the bag, probing it for its contents. Chalk-laden hands pulled out two cartons, one circular and one square, and set it on that small clearing of visible desk. Without pause, Iruka reached in again only to pull out a few small napkins and the standard utensils provided with every takeaway meal. Then Iruka stepped back, eyeing both the meal and Kakashi skeptically. "Well, what is it?" he asked again, with his wrists curled against his hips.

"It’s food," Kakashi answered. "I thought that was obvious."

This response did not seem to appease Iruka's curiosity, not that Kakashi thought it would. But the obviousness of the situation made it difficult for Kakashi to adhere to Iruka's irrational thought patterns. The chunin was an expert at stating the obvious, and a takeaway meal oozing with swirls of steam and an aroma of freshly cooked noodles– complete with a side of stir-fry eggplant, couldn't get any more obvious, in Kakashi's opinion.

Iruka simply dropped the bag on the floor, staring at Kakashi with newly concentrated venom.

"Of course, it would put your mind at ease to know the contents of this meal. Ne, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi chuckled, reaching back to ruffle the back of his head. He earned a hard stare from the younger man, before Iruka returned his attention towards the food left on his desk. Kakashi kept stark still, strangely satisfied to see Iruka reach for the circular container first.

"Ramen?" Iruka asked, tilting the container in his hand.

Kakashi nodded.

"What kind?"

"Miso ramen," Kakashi answered slowly, "with a side of stir-fry eggplant."

"Why am I not surprised," Iruka sighed, before picking up the other container. The chunin looked it over, inspecting it with distrustful eyes, before that gaze fell upon Kakashi once more.

"I take it you'd like some," Iruka muttered, his brow rising, and the Hokage couldn't help but smile.

"If you insist," Kakashi answered. Iruka scratched his temple, handing the container over to Kakashi. He then reached for his miso-ramen noodles and a pair of packaged chopsticks. "I ordered what I knew you'd like. It just so happens that we like the same kind of stir-fried rice."

Iruka rolled his eyes and fought desperately to withhold the grin spreading across his face. Kakashi could see it, a slight smile that Iruka commonly expressed. The Academy instructor was prone to elaborate expressions of emotion, never one for subtlety. Iruka was simply too easy to read, even when the rather irate chunin tried very hard to cling to his anger.

Kakashi knew he could use this knowledge to his advantage, as he often did. His pseudo anger then turned intrusive. "I thought you didn't like fried foods."

"I thought you didn't like mixed rice."

"Really…"

Kakashi picked up his own pair of chopsticks, reaching out with a cautious hand. The smallest movement could tip Iruka off and, once again, turn him into a hot-tempered force to be reckoned with. "I often make an exception when it comes to rice," He explained, "and I know you dislike mixed rice, but—"

"There are a lot of things I dislike," Iruka breathed and said nothing more. In fact, his gaze failed to spare Kakashi another glance. He was determined to gawk at his bowl of ramen, until two gaping holes were burned through the bottom, by willpower alone. "Take it," Iruka said, gesturing to the eggplant and stir-fried rice in Kakashi's hand.

"Make sure to leave some for me, Kakashi-san."

"Sure," Kakashi nodded. He watched Iruka intently. "Maa, you need to eat too. I noticed you didn't eat this morning," Kakashi pointed out, "and, when you left, you didn't pack a meal. So I thought about—"

"You were spying on me, Kakashi-san?" Iruka snapped, but Kakashi possessed too much pride to flinch. Iruka stood, bearing a fraction of his usual ferocity, as it proved difficult for the chunin to appear threatening while holding a bowl of ramen. He did grip his waist noticeably tighter and leaned forward, bearing down on Kakashi with a harmless scowl and slouching shoulders...but Kakashi had brought him food. Even an angered Iruka was penetrable–easily distracted by unanticipated situations. Iruka would surely falter and consider Kakashi's attempt at civility. "Well?"

Kakashi had thought wrong.

Perhaps perching on a tree branch in the wee hours of the night and watching the chunin enjoy the company of his ninken and doze off in the company of his ninken did not fall under the olive branch of courtesy.

"You were, weren't you? That's why you're not answering..." Iruka trailed away, now staring at Kakashi with another stern glare, but Kakashi stayed the course and completely ignored the accusation.

"Are you going to eat, Iruka-sensei?" he asked. He was growing curious as to why the chunin had yet to touch his meal. Iruka was much like Naruto, in this regard, where the promise of ramen brought on a voracious appetite. However, the swirls of heat and delightful aroma seemed impenetrable to Iruka's senses.

The chunin simply stared at his bowl and, every now and then, awarded the jonin another hard stare. "...I appreciate the meal, Kakashi-san," and when he said this, Kakashi believed him, "but I'm not hungry at the moment." The chunin snapped the lid back in place. "Though, by all means, do help yourself," he encouraged, placing the bowl and utensils back down on the table.

"Nonsense, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi waved away, also setting the carton of stir-fried rice on the desk. "It would be rude of me to eat in your presence, knowing you haven't eaten yet."

"How...considerate of you," Iruka muttered, "but I guess it's not rude to spy on someone, either."

"Don't mention it," Kakashi said dryly, deflecting. He reached out for the tote bag lying on the floor. He put everything back, the food and the chopsticks, well aware of the surprise and astonishment adorning Iruka's features. "I hope that you'll find your appetite before break is over. Like everything, a well-functioning mind is gained with a balanced meal."

"I perform my duties with utmost proficiency, whether I've eaten or not" Iruka said, leaning against his desk. "In fact, I can't remember the last time I left my students to their own devices, where they were free to throw their peers across the room. I never held a kunai to a student's throat, either."

The Academy instructor paused, looking him up and down accusingly, but Kakashi disregarded the look. It had been afforded to him so often at this point that his mind made only the smallest mental note. It was dauntingly clear that one of Iruka's students had told the chunin what else had happened in his absence, and yet he still felt obligated to address and defend what Iruka believed was his unconventional teaching skills.

Kakashi would have ruined this peaceful occasion, right then and there, had Iruka given him the chance to speak.

"Then again…" a softer tone broke Kakashi's thoughts. He looked up to find equally softened eyes staring back at him. Even the mischievous glint he understood to be common to Iruka's attributes had returned to some significant level. "The moment they came back from their break, my students were eager to tell me about their substitute: the amazing Hokage-sama, who taught them how to properly channel their chakra." Iruka slowly pushed away from his desk, watching Kakashi with an unreadable stare. "They said he encouraged them to continue the exercise, even when they thought they were incapable of success. They also want me to apologize on their behalf, as they're sure their constant questioning was getting in the way of all the important reading the Hokage had to complete."

"Heh...you heard about that, ne, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi bravely chuckled, unknowingly tugging at the lobe of his right ear. He wasn't nervous, but if those brats had told Iruka about his extensive reading… This could be Kakashi's downfall, because they didn't have to know the book was part of his Icha Icha series for their chunin sensei to know that the book was part of Kakashi's extensive Icha Icha series. "In all fairness, Iruka-sensei, you failed to rule on my replacement copy. Why should I bring attention to it, when you don't even know it exists?"

"You don't have it on you now, do you?"

"No," Kakashi admitted quickly and much to his displeasure.

"Good," Iruka frowned. "It would have made this "peace offering" a rather pointless venture, Kakashi-san." His cool tone did not serve to relieve Kakashi in the slightest. Iruka continued with a wave of his hand. "Please, allow me to continue telling you about this "cool" and "awesome" substitute sensei my students couldn't wait to tell me about."

Iruka pushed a few papers aside, positioning himself on the edge of his desk. "They said his wall-walking demonstration was the best part of the lesson, and that it was most definitely followed by the worst part of the lesson."

"Oh...?" Kakashi stared at the floor that was most engaging for some unknown reason. "Lessons can't all be fun and games, Iruka-sensei."

"That substitute has nothing to worry about, Kakashi-san. For a reason I can't begin to understand, they came to class eager to run to their substitute's defense. They explained that what I walked in on was... an unusual situation, where their fellow peer pulled a weapon on their Hokage." Iruka's eyes wandered over his desk.

An alarming amount of time lapsed before he said much else, and the silence between them grew. Kakashi found he was incapable of returning Iruka's stare, searching the class for something else captivating.

"…I was convinced."

Kakashi looked back, his ears perking up; his one visible eye immediately fixed on Iruka. He felt it unnatural to Iruka's nature, to see so little emotion in his face. Where a frown or a prominent scowl would normally grace the chunin's features, Kakashi saw only a blank canvas that was void of all emotion. Having made a closer examination, Kakashi found only exhaustion.

"I might have been too harsh on this substitute sensei, who responded in the manner instructed by so many great shinobi before him. I should think," Iruka sighed, in resignation, "that I owe this substitute my gratitude and an apology on my own behalf. Even if apologizing is a concept he cannot accept."

Iruka crossed his arms and scoffed.

"He probably doesn't even deserve one, really."

"Are you talking about me, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi asked, his one visible eye blinking innocently. It pleased him to see a certain level of irritation on Iruka's face.

"Addressing you in the third person is keeping me from yelling at you," Iruka explained, dropping his arms and grabbing his hips. "I didn't think my resentment would be capable of telling a Hokage and an insufferable jonin apart."

"Why thank you, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka sighed. "You are absolutely unbelievable."

Kakashi pinched his chin, recognizing the familiar term and giving it its due consideration. "Unbelievable…that doesn't mean amazing to you. I'm learning. Evolving."

"You seem pretty primitive to me, Kakashi-san."

Iruka returned to his work, plopping down in his rickety desk chair. He rummaged through the pages on his desk, paying the jonin little mind. Kakashi paid little mind to the chunin's work, as the slightest shuffle of paper remained a blur to his senses. Iruka would be a constant reminder of why he had to hire the chunin in the first place: to relieve him of paperwork.

Before becoming Hokage, Kakashi was never a shinobi with a vested interest in mission reports and was never all that fond of what work littered Iruka's apartment. That was why, whenever Iruka asked him to help grade papers, Kakashi arbitrarily marked student work with indecent feedback.

Kakashi looked down again, to the bag in his hand. He looked towards Iruka, but the younger man was well engrossed, sifting through page after page and repetitively flicking his pen.

When Iruka accused Kakashi of spying, he had not been wrong. Kakashi spent all night sitting in some nearby tree, peering into the other man's open window. He knew what time the Academy sensei made dinner and when he fed his ninken, when he spent time with his ninken, when he completed his paperwork, and when he went to sleep. Then Kakashi waited... That morning, he watched Iruka prepare for his day, head to the Academy, and, in his rush, Iruka forgot to eat breakfast and pack a meal for lunch.

Would Kakashi outright admit to the nature of his nightly activities? For the sake of peace, no. This confrontation had taken an unusual turn, true, but Kakashi wouldn't say it was a bad one. After all, he was still standing there, albeit uselessly, watching Iruka drift from one piece of paper to the next. The air of hostility was declining, much to the jonin's curiosity.

"Mm..." His train of thought was stolen, by a soft murmur this time. The concentration etched into Iruka's brow would have incited interest, but he was already curious of the chunin's sudden passiveness. The daring demeanor and contempt that had once taken the features of a man who was, otherwise, lukewarm in nature, now lay forgotten, tossed aside, somewhere, and replaced by steadfast concentration. "Mm?" Iruka hummed again, looking up.

"What is it? Kakashi asked.

"Oh, it's nothing...just another interesting response. That's all." The chunin shook his head, not trying to hide the smile on his face at all.

"I take it that's the –"

"– the work I assigned after you left. Yes," Iruka said briskly, tossing a few more pages to the side. "This class has never produced such thorough and in-depth essays, until now. I guess I owe you that much credit," Iruka gathered, smirking.

Kakashi lifted one silver brow. "I'm still waiting for that apology, Iruka-sensei. I'm willing to accept it."

"I said I should thank the substitute who taught my class yesterday. I never said I would," Iruka snapped. Kakashi winced, still playing with fire. "If you want an apology, go look for my students. They're your biggest fans, now." Iruka sighed. "I'll never hear the end of it...and they're already begging, pleading for you to come back and teach."

"Fans?" Kakashi frowned. "I don't want any fans." He thought he saw something, another emotion from the endless array of emotions at Iruka's disposal. He often saw it in the eyes of his comrades, as defeated in strength as he himself, equally burdened with the consequences of conquest. Commiseration, it was, for a shared understanding of what it meant to take a life.

Surely Iruka knew nothing about this, so perhaps it was pity. Pity…? Why would Iruka pity him?

"Well, you have fans, whether you want them or not, Kakashi-san." Iruka moved on, grabbing another stack of paper with two hands. "The students will be thrilled to see you, if you're still here when they return from their break."

"Where is Take?"

"Mm?" Iruka looked down, staring at a few uneven lines of writing. Kakashi waited, untroubled by the sun reflecting against the rim of Iruka's hitai-ate.

"I didn't see him with the students."

"That's probably because he didn't come to school today," Iruka replied, giving Kakashi a pointed look. Though the jonin was not often moved by information so insignificant, his mask helped him hide his surprise. Iruka remained stalwart, unmoved, but continued to filter through mounds of student work. Kakashi detected resignation in the younger man, however. Iruka's shoulders often slouched when he worked, but a few added centimeters indicated a personal affliction that Iruka simply could not control. Kakashi had seen it before, Iruka's state of helplessness.

Kakashi moved closer to the desk, practically hovering above it. He couldn't see the table top for what it was: an old and cheap piece of wood. He saw it only for what it appeared to be: a sea of leafy beige and hot red marks.

"You're okay with that?" He said, tapping the edge of said desk with two unsuspecting fingers.

"Am I okay with that, Kakashi-san?" Iruka repeated his words, not sparing a moment to meet his eye, but Kakashi felt it a fair question to ask. Iruka was most strict about schooling, if nothing else. He believed a well-educated shinobi could beat the odds more often than most. Kakashi shared this belief, adhering to it like no other. A shinobi education was the root of success, survival from the enemy, and to have the future of a shinobi village not show up to class was a national waste.

Still, Iruka did not look up.

A few more seconds and the question became obsolete. "An unnecessary question," Kakashi supplied. "You are obviously upset." As if to confirm this fact, the constriction in Iruka's body fell lax. But his shoulders sulked even further into himself, until the smooth, creamy skin beneath his jaw could be seen. Iruka grabbed at it–his hand reached up, pushed against the fabric of his turtleneck, and rubbed slow circles into the vulnerable spot. Kakashi thought that, were he the enemy, killing Iruka would be only too easy. "Maa, I would have thought you'd drag a student to the Academy, if they didn't show."

"You've been listening to Naruto and those horrible tales he used to tell about me," Iruka sighed, reaching back for the nape of his neck. "I only did it to Naruto because I knew that, if he wasn't at the Academy, he was only up to no good: painting on windows, vandalizing market shops, and generally terrorizing the village...those used to be his favorite pastimes."

Kakashi chuckled, "So it would seem."

"I was never in the business of forcing my students to do anything, not even showing up to class. It's not like I'm their parents. Besides," Iruka fell back against his seat, "Take is...different." His eyes darted towards Kakashi. He quickly added, "Considering what I walked in on the other day, I'm not surprised he didn't show up today."

"Mm..." Kakashi didn't want to dwell on what happened. It was still a heavy burden on his conscience; bothersome, it was, to be unnerved by his own actions, just as he now stood, unnerved by the absence of the hostile boy, a boy he'd only just met.

"Yes—'Mm', Kakashi-san," Iruka frowned and crossed his arms. "Take is a bit of an outsider. It's difficult for him to interact with the other children, and now..." Iruka paused, glancing at something Kakashi could not see. Then Iruka's stare returned, as a constant warmness against his skin. "The students look up to you, just as the village does."

"Because I'm the Hokage," Kakashi explained, adding reason to Iruka's claim.

"You are more than just a Hokage, Kakashi-san. You're a model shinobi– a hero." Iruka's hand reached up again, pulling the base and rubbing up the column. This action was most likely repetitive, Kakashi thought, as Iruka tried and failed to hide a small wince.

"Spare me your flattery, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi said, circling the chunin's desk.

Iruka dropped his arm. "I guess the praise was a bit premature, on my part." The fleeting resentment in Iruka's eyes followed Kakashi's quick and unexplained movements.

"What are you doing, Kakashi-san?" By the time the question was asked, Kakashi was already out of sight, standing somewhere behind his chair.

Kakashi could no longer see Iruka's temperament or the misplaced belief therein. Iruka's body, a frame now rattled with uncertainty, he took into consideration. He reached out, without a moment's indecision, and pressed his fingers against that skin visible between the chunin's turtleneck uniform and the short brunette tendrils of his hair. They were soft, Kakashi noted.

"K-Kakashi-san...?" He fell short. The newly appointed Hokage would hardly waste attention on Iruka's vocal inflection. The flesh around his neck was tender, malleable, and yet tightly coiled all the same.

He found himself easily annoyed by unexplained habits, with the exception of his own. He could not stand by and watch Iruka grab at his neck time and time again and without reason. So he imitated Iruka's movements, pressed the palm of his gloved hand against Iruka's neck and, beneath his thumb and forefinger, kneaded the tension there. Iruka released his speechlessness with a soft whimper. With two fingers pressed together, Kakashi gently nudged his head forward.

"You make the mistake of falling asleep, surrounded by my ninken," Kakashi said, diagnosing the problem but, more importantly, the reason. He added pressure to his hands.

Iruka did not respond, not that Kakashi expected him to. The younger man's ability to react to unforeseen situations was slow and predictable. A fact that made taunting Iruka all that more pleasing.

"You might want to reconsider their sleeping positions. The smaller of my ninken should rest beside your head, your neck," Kakashi paused, stepping closer. He placed his right hand on Iruka's shoulder, inexpertly massaging down and up the junction between his neck and upper-arm. His only guide being the knowledge of what it felt like to fall asleep surrounded by his ninken. Kakashi usually woke up bruised and sore.

The Hokage didn't lean on inanimate objects, unless it was his intention. Such bodily contact would imply a weakness or dependency that Kakashi did not possess. Unless resting off the strain of vigorous training or recuperating from a serious injury, leaning was unnecessary. Regardless, he felt the fabric of Iruka's vest press back against his body.

"Your upper body will remain undisturbed, if Guruko did not share the same head space and if Bull were to sleep at the base of the bed, rather than near your midsection."

Kakashi anticipated a retort, at this, one dealing with the indirect admittance of how he did, indeed, spend last night watching Iruka. However, a fresh accusation never came.

Iruka remained quiet, his head rolling, adhering to the movements of the jonin's hands. And they roamed, down Iruka's shoulders, arms, and back up again, easing what parts of his body had fallen victim to an uneasy night's slumber. Kakashi felt a shudder beneath his embrace and immediately stopped.

"Am I hurting you, Iruka-sensei?" Iruka shook his head. "I'm glad. My intention is to relieve you the strain of care taking."

"...Care taking?" Iruka's voice returned: low, humorous, softer than his vacant tranquility, and Kakashi would not admit to its welcomed reappearance. "I wasn't aware I was a caretaker. I like to imagine, in some small way, I took care of Naruto, though."

"You take care of Naruto, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi said.

"Well, I can hardly be considered a caretaker anymore, Kakashi-san," Iruka replied. His voice was flat and tired. Kakashi frowned, having not received the gratitude he thought he deserved.

"Then my ninken," he said. The hands resting on Iruka's shoulders traveled upwards, their movements unknown to their owner. "My ninken's ability to drain you of your energy is remarkable, and the way they've managed to crawl into your good graces is still a wonder to me. They have allied themselves alongside you, as animals in need of your assistance: to lounge, to eat and sleep. If you were not so inclined to indulge them, to spoil them, as you do, you would not be in pain."

"You might want to work on your Thank You's, Kakashi-san, because this one sucks."

"I'm merely pointing out that, for some reason, my ninken have devoted themselves to you. Surely you understand now that, both figuratively and literally, they are nothing but a pain in the neck."

"Imitation is the greatest form of flattery," Iruka sighed, his shoulders settling into Kakashi's hold. "You're right. I can spare you."

Kakashi blinked, staring down at the neatly tied hair pouring out from Iruka's head. "I fear we might have strayed from the subject at hand, Iruka-sensei."

"Too true," Iruka replied, nodding slightly. "Take is at the head of his class. He rarely gets along with the other students, but they're always impressed by him." Kakashi's fingers dipped beneath the collar of Iruka's turtleneck, glided forward, and traced over the jugular notch, testing its sensitivity. The chunin did not protest, only lifting his jaw to provide the jonin better access. Kakashi would have never made a similar movement, not for anyone. With his fingers now gently mapping out the veins beneath only skin and tissue, a shinobi's understanding of the human neck returned to him by tenfold. It was fragile...vulnerable. Were Iruka an enemy shinobi, Kakashi would find no difficulties in ending his life, strangling him where he sat being the simplest method.

"That doesn't explain why he isn't here, at the Academy," Kakashi responded, pushing the image of Iruka's death from his thoughts.

Kakashi eased the pressure of his ministrations; regardless, Iruka's head fell back to reveal lidded eyes, an even greater vulnerability. "Now the students are going to turn against him," he whispered, "because he attacked their favorite Hokage." Kakashi felt the vibration of Iruka's voice beneath him. He reached up on both sides and nudged his thumbs at the junctions where neck and jaw met.

Iruka never once commented on the temperature of Kakashi's hands. His hands were certainly cold against the unbearable fever of Iruka's skin. It seemed not a day went by, though, that the jonin didn't question the consistent heat of Iruka's person. The weather outside was just as indecisive as that morning: a sunny, cloudless day, coupled with the remnants of a storm's wind. And despite the open window, Iruka was a constant singularity of warmth. Security for the students, Kakashi imagined.

The calm acquired from removing Iruka's discomfort was nothing like the lifeless void of Ibiki's chamber rooms. Kakashi anticipated no intrusion—not the noisy rattle of chains or the eye-catching flicker of torch fires. He didn't think about the wafting aroma of takeaway food, the slow hovering of the sun outside, the shifting shadows, or the time passing by. In fact, there was no time.

This moment was sufficient.

"Mm... when they don't show up for class, do you tell their parents?" If not, as Hokage, he would have such course of action enforced. That's just what he needed in his term: a bunch of Academy brats skipping classes, running amok in his village, and Kakashi would not be as lenient as the Third or the Fifth. He'd have them all hanging from Ibiki's walls.

Kakashi hadn't noticed Iruka's delayed response. He stared at the back of his head, contemplating Iruka's conservative hairstyle and comparing it to the way he looked without the constraint of a hair band. Iruka only let his hair down when off-duty. Like last night, when Kakashi watched his ninken sniff and brush against his hair affectionately. There was a time when they used to do that to him, many years ago. Kakashi remained perched on a distant tree, because it hadn't been his intention to eavesdrop. Had he, he might have heard a reason that would explain why his dogs preferred Iruka's hair down. Like him.

"I notify the parents," Iruka finally said, as the jonin's hands pinched carefully at his shoulders, "but Take is an orphan."

Kakashi's hands stilled.

"There were days when I didn't want to show up to school. It can be hard, when there's no one there to push you; to encourage you..." he finished. Iruka reached up, his hand searching. When Kakashi felt the tips of Iruka's fingers touch his own, he did not stir. The cold fingers at Iruka's touch were electrifying, like sparks of lightning, reattaching the circuits running through his body and recharging his mind. Iruka frowned, even though the right words were resting on the tip of his tongue.

Kakashi stared at Iruka's fingers with a raised brow, not alarmed but captivated. The way they curled around his hand, absentmindedly, was surely involuntary. Strange that Iruka wasn't cold, considering the only people Kakashi came into contact with were usually dead. Instead, Iruka's rich, tan colored skin made his own skin paler than normal, and the significant difference fascinated Kakashi.

"It would be hypocritical of me to force Take to show up."

"No. It wouldn't," Kakashi supplied, splitting his attention between Iruka's words and the warmth of his touch. "That's what you did for Naruto."

"I told you, Take is different."

"It's your obligation," Kakashi answered back. He turned his hand over, grabbing Iruka's fingers. He squeezed them, tentatively, but he couldn't understand why. "As someone who cares too much, you wouldn't ignore a student's absence."

"No. I wouldn't, Kakashi-san," Iruka looked back, sulking. "I also know what it's like to be an orphan." Iruka turned away just as quickly, his inner turmoil remaining his own.

Kakashi gazed at Iruka, thoughtfully. "I wasn't an orphan while I attended the Academy, but my father went out on missions that lasted days, sometimes months, and left me by myself. He wasn't in the village on the day of my graduation." He considered the fingers in his grasp once more. "I was left to my own devices, quite often, and I never missed a day of school."

"And now you're Hokage, Kakashi-san. What does that tell you?"

Iruka scoffed. Kakashi gathered a bit of mirth in the chunin's voice, but reading Iruka was becoming a lot more difficult. That he was standing behind him and, therefore, could not see the emotions on the man's face made it more challenging. Kakashi could settle with this reasoning and shame himself for being less than a keen observer—a superb killing machine. He should have been aware of Iruka's state of mind, before Iruka himself.

By body language alone: the uncertainty of the chunin's shoulders as they rose and fell every so often, his measured breathing, the way his free hand tugged anxiously at the navy blue fabric over his thigh. Of course, none of this resonated with the gentle ease of the chunin's voice. Quite the opposite, Kakashi noticed.

Kakashi felt something akin to unease or nervousness held in the palm of his hand.

"I should have skipped classes more often," Kakashi sighed. It was a simple solution to a future complication. A younger version of himself had never considered the option.

He was the White Fang's son, after all, and no son of the White Fang would be caught behaving in any way that could tarnish the Hatake name. Young Kakashi was focused and driven to live up to his family's legacy. Young Kakashi would attend classes, every day, only to graduate months before his peers. Young Kakashi would only progress thereafter, forever hardened by the sight of his father, the Legendary White Fang, lying on top of his own impalement…in a pool of his own blood. He would land himself in a three-man team, with two other shinobis a year older than him, while instructed by another legend.

The Yellow Flash.

His teammates would die. His sensei would become his confidante, his Hokage, until, he too, sacrificed himself for the sake of their nation.

Even a young Kakashi knew that he never wanted to emulate his sensei, in becoming Hokage. Surely there was nothing more ominous than leading a powerful nation amid a league of powerful nations. There was nothing more challenging than controlling the lives of thousands with a few uttered words. Not even thousands, Kakashi wagered...just a few dozen would do the trick. Maybe only forty. Forty men and women, many unwilling participants of Madara's army, had lost their right to live, after all.

They lost that right that morning, due to a few uttered words. The process would be slow—excruciatingly painful, if Kakashi understood the effectiveness of Ibiki's methods correctly. Their blood will accumulate, puddle into a river, and drain down into the grated floor of a dungeon somewhere beneath Konoha's benevolent surface.

It was a younger Kakashi's understanding that, under inescapable circumstances, a leader could make those tough decisions and sacrifice a few lives for the sake of many. But a younger Kakashi would have never anticipated becoming a leader.

Kakashi reached for Iruka again, and for any one place did not matter. He thought momentarily of removing his gloves, only to remember that he never took off his gloves if he could help it.

The movement of his hands changed in breadth and pattern, from circles to long strokes, seemingly curing an undiscovered trauma with every variation. Iruka's head leaned towards one side, guiding Kakashi's hand up the length of his neck, just beneath the soft cartilage of his ear. "Iruka-sensei," he breathed.

"Mm?" was Iruka's soft-spoken reply. A threat, Kakashi thought. This was a potential threat. He saw two roads, and one stood just as clear and pleasant as when a takeaway meal had promised him a guaranteed rescue. The other road spelled consequence and possible death.

"About what happened the other day, Iruka-sensei. What you walked in on..."

"Yes?"

"...with Take and the kunai..."

"Yes?"

"...I was right. My actions are still justified, not only as a vigilant shinobi but as a leader trying to teach his future subordinates the difference between life and death. It is quick and merciless."

The hand in his fell, and Kakashi found mere seconds of time to dodge the abrupt shove of Iruka's chair. Even shorter was the time spent watching Iruka turn on him, fury embedded in every fiber of his body, while his chalk-laden palms shoved him back against the wall. The chalkboard hovered beside him, just within his reach, while the distant movement of children taunted his peripheral sight.

"What is wrong with you!" Iruka spat, but Kakashi thought his tone more hysterical than harsh. He thought his eyes changed an interesting shade of brown, when enraged.

Iruka shoved him again, but Iruka posed as no more a threat to Kakashi now, than he did sitting at his desk. The hands pressed against him, gripping at his robes, could have easily been avoided or removed, but Kakashi remained at Iruka's disposal, unmoved.

Kakashi had nothing to gain by retaliating, having proven his superior strength and speed over Iruka many times before. Iruka had a habit of proving him wrong, however, and Kakashi did not like to be proven wrong.

"Is being a shinobi all you can think about? Skill? Discipline? Death? Overpowering the enemy? Showing others you're that much stronger? Do you ever think about another person's feelings? I thought you came here to apologize! I thought—!"

Kakashi had to be right. There was no purpose in being wrong.

"Kakashi-san?" Kakashi looked down, responding to his name.

There was Iruka interrupting his thoughts, the same as before. The chunin's ever-changing mood was exhausting, but Kakashi would not willingly admit to this fact.

"Iruka-sensei," Kakashi replied, mocking Iruka, but the intention went overlooked. Iruka's eyes fixated on him, abandoning their ferocity for another emotion he could only surmise was sorrow. Or maybe it was pity, misplaced pity, like before. Why Iruka's anger had turned to grief so suddenly was beyond Kakashi's comprehension.

"You," Iruka said, his brown eyes dancing across the surface of Kakashi's mask, the exposed skin, until it reached the only eye visible on his face.

"Maa, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi said, watching Iruka watch him. He found himself backing away, however aware he was of the wall pushing against his back. When under such an intense stare as Iruka's, Kakashi felt like a specimen, strewn about a laboratory table. And what did he see on him that was so intriguing? What could make the chunin forget his anger and his epiphany that the jonin in question would rather honor the codes of a shinobi than relent to his misguided notion of humanity? Out of the corner of his eye, Kakashi saw Iruka's hands move but caught them just mere inches from his chin. Iruka didn't seem to mind or even notice, with his attention forever fixed on Kakashi's face. "Do tell me, Iruka-sensei, what has caught your attention."

Iruka blinked, returning from his trance. Kakashi felt the disturbance in Iruka's breathing—every ignored inhale, exhale, and rattled heartbeat pounded within their close proximity. Iruka had been in such a stupor that his body forgot it needed oxygen to survive.

"Your face," Iruka said, at last.

"What about my face, Iruka-sensei?" With one half covered by a mask and another quarter covered by an eye-patch, Kakashi doubted there was much Iruka could say about his face. Perhaps he was referring to the face Kakashi wore in public, and that would be the mask and the eye-patch.

"Your eye," Iruka whispered, and so softly that Kakashi thought he hadn't heard anything at all. The hands in his moved again, just a fraction higher and a fraction closer. Then, when Iruka tried to pull away, Kakashi found he was unwilling to let him go. "Why do you..?"

"Why do I what?"

"You look so..." Kakashi watched as Iruka searched for the right word "...sad."

Now it was Kakashi's turn to stand in a state of bewilderment.

"You look sad," Iruka repeated. Kakashi felt the chunin beneath his chin. "Why do you look sad?" Kakashi refused to believe that the sadness in Iruka's face mirrored anything the younger man might have thought he'd seen in his. Still, for some reason, Kakashi couldn't bring himself to deny Iruka's findings. The fingers cupping his chin posed no threat, and the warmth seeping through his mask was a welcomed change to the cold air filtering through the classroom. His grip eased, with every intention of releasing Iruka, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so. The look of worry on Iruka's face was intoxicating, interesting.

"Iruka-sensei, I believe you're seeing things."

"No, I'm not," he replied, with certitude Kakashi had to look away from. He would look anywhere but into those brown eyes.

"Then you're letting your undying concern for others cloud your vision."

"And you're trying to piss me off."

Kakashi blinked and sighed, his brow rising only slightly. "Yes. I guess I am," he agreed.

Iruka shook his head, as if to say such a diversion wasn't going to work. "Something's wrong."

"I can assure you, nothing is wrong."

"Something happened."

Kakashi said nothing at first. He remained calm and collected, staring at Iruka, expecting the chunin to back down. He didn't. Seconds passed before Kakashi gave in and said, "Nothing has happened that is within your pay grade." He meant for his tone to come out clipped, biting, but even the jonin could hear it was a sad attempt. His grip held firm, however, slowly lowering Iruka's hands. Iruka did not protest.

To Kakashi's relief, Iruka understood to drop the subject.

The room was of an entirely different air, by the time Iruka had reclaimed his chair and returned to his desk. Kakashi lingered near, standing over Iruka's uneaten lunch. The jonin even went so far as to nudge the bag with his foot. He looked at Iruka again, but the Academy sensei had yet to move. He seemed to be fixed on one piece of paper.

Kakashi gave it a side glance, knowing his normal eye was skilled enough to gather and retain the information of this particular page of work. It was an assignment sheet, covered in writing that was remarkably legible, way above Kakashi's standards for both pre-genin and jonin. Iruka had looked it over, multiple times, and yet there wasn't a red mark on its face. The corner of the page read "Hamamoto Take".

It was quiet before a high-pitched squeal cut in, from outside, accompanied by giggles and muffled chatter. Kakashi looked to Iruka again, uncertain as to how to pursue the rest of his visit. Iruka didn't seem to mind the silence, so why should he? Only his original tentativeness had made a revival. Kakashi was as eager to disrupt Iruka as a student was to attend his class without having completed their homework.

"You'll be home tonight," he dared to assume. It was a question with an obvious answer, at that. Even when he volunteered to cover someone's shift or worked overtime, Iruka managed to retire at night. Kakashi understood that even Iruka's strong sense of duty had its limits, and pulling regular all-night shifts was his breaking point. Eventually, Iruka always went home.

"Early," Iruka said, startling Kakashi. He detected no temperament, other than worry and distress, in Iruka's tone.

Kakashi shrugged, seeing as Iruka wouldn't be Iruka if he wasn't worried or distressed. The chunin sat back in his chair and lightly scratched the bridge of his scarred nose.

"The strangest thing occurred this morning. Perhaps you can shed some light on this, Kakashi-san."

"I'll help, if I can."

"I bet," Iruka muttered, looking the jonin over. "Here I was, preparing for class, when, all of a sudden, Izumo-san and Kotetsu-san show up. I take it you know who they are, yes?"

"Right," Kakashi drawled. "They work shifts at the gate. How could I forget who they are?"

"Right," Iruka nodded, the corner of his lips curling into a small smile. "Well, anyway, they're good acquaintances of mind—friends, really, better friends than I expected, apparently. They volunteered to take my shifts in the missions room."

Kakashi's eye grew wide. "Did you accept their offer?"

"Of course I accepted their offer," Iruka scoffed. "I'm not an idiot. They didn't just offer to cover a few shifts, either, but an entire month of shifts!" he exclaimed, the brightest of smiles on his face.

"That was very generous of them," Kakashi said.

"Indeed. I was skeptical, of course. Kotetsu and Izumo like to play the occasional prank."

"As do you," Kakashi pointed out, knowing full-well that Iruka didn't always play the role of the innocent, unsuspecting Academy chunin. Iruka continued to smile, undisturbed by the allegation. Kakashi asked, "Did they offer to assist you with your paperwork?"

"Actually, they did," Iruka nodded, "and I told them I didn't want to burden them." Nonsense, Kakashi thought. "But then Izumo insisted, so I gave in."

"Izumo-san does seem more generous with his time." Much like Iruka, Kakashi thought. Alternatively, Kakashi imagined Kotetsu might have made a run from such a proposition.

Having taken the time to read through both Izumo and Kotetsu's files, the Hokage found no evidence indicating that their off-time was spent productively, like making commissioned runs for extra pay. Kakashi learned that Kotetsu and Izumo spent a considerable amount of time organizing social functions that catered solely to shinobi or lounging about the village; slacking—not that Kakashi saw anything wrong with that.

Apparently, Kotetsu orchestrated their activities, Izumo monitored them, and both suffered an equal amount of demerits for their numerous violations. Other than their shifts and the odd four-man mission, these two had all the time in the world to complete Iruka's, really Kakashi's, paperwork. Kakashi regretted that even classified documents couldn't disclose why and how two very unpredictable people were the good friends of one very predictable sensei.

"Academy paperwork, or..."

"Your paperwork, Kakashi-san. The piles and piles of paperwork sitting in your office. The paperwork that will only accumulate with time. In good conscious, I couldn't ask any more from them. I feel guilty as it is."

"Well, you shouldn't. It's their job," Kakashi let slip, mentally berating himself for the mistake.

"I don't remember it being a part of their job to assist me in my workload," Iruka replied whimsically, tapping his chin.

"Unless...someone ordered them to. Someone with a higher authority, who might have it in their best interest to relieve me of the additional stress brought on by taking on another job. Someone who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer and now has to compensate for the consequences."

"That someone sounds like a pretty crafty and considerate character, Iruka-sensei. Perhaps you should thank them, sometime."

"Oh, I will. Just as soon as I'm done thanking yesterday's substitute. You can be sure of that." Iruka leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of his desk. "I think I might take the rest of the day off, when class is over."

"Good," Kakashi said, looking down and between the tote bag's drooping handles. The aroma of ramen and rice continued to mingle into the chalky air, waiting to be eaten and digested.

Kakashi imagined Iruka would wait until he left to eat his food, just to spite the jonin. The paler man wouldn't be given the opportunity to gloat that his peace offering had succeeded.

Kakashi would have to come up with another plan to win Iruka over, to fall back into his good graces, but there weren't a lot of schemes that wouldn't make Iruka suspicious. The chunin was, most certainly, average in his shinobi skills, but his acute skepticism towards any potentially noble deed was most certainly an ability.

"I'm cooking nikujaga, tonight."

"Sounds good. I'm sure my ninken will enjoy it."

"Won't you be hungry, Kakashi-san?" Kakashi looked up, taking the younger man's questioning, unsuspecting eyes and small, knowing grin with some regard.

"Starving," he answered, an unseen grin stretching across his face.

Iruka laughed, much to Kakashi's satisfaction.

The chunin picked up a pile of work and set it aside to make more room on his desk. Meanwhile, Kakashi checked the time. Five minutes until class resumed, he noted. Half an hour managed to pass by, unbeknownst to the jonin. He usually kept track of time, along with other details, like distances, colors, shapes, smells, and whether an object was moved from its original place. Keeping a keen awareness of even the smallest detail was vital to the survival of a shinobi—Kakashi felt it was a strength engraved in his skin.

When Iruka started clearing his desk, Kakashi understood that to mean Iruka's lunch break was nearing its end. "Now that I have the time, I think I might visit Naruto later," Iruka smiled, his eyes shifting from his desk to Kakashi. This time, the jonin didn't think he wanted to know why Iruka was frowning at him. "This whole time, you never once asked about Naruto, Kakashi-san."

"I wasn't aware there was something that needed to be questioned, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi replied, staring adamantly at the clock.

"Don't you want to know why he came by, yesterday?"

"No."

"...Aren't you worried about him?"

Kakashi turned back. His face was set in stone. "I worry about him," he said.

"Then you must know why he was here, since you didn't ask."

Iruka waited for him to say something, but Kakashi wasn't all that inclined to reply. There was resilience in his voice and in his demeanor that told Kakashi Iruka wasn't going to back down.

He was annoying Iruka, with his lack of response, and, though it was nowhere near the passive aggressive anger Kakashi walked in on, infuriating Iruka again had never been his intention.

He simply had nothing to say on the matter.

"He asked for my help. I'm sure he had you in mind, but considering how you've been about all of this, he probably thought you'd turn him away."

"I would never turn Naruto away, if I could help it. But he has a tendency to make the troubles of others his own."

"This isn't just Naruto's troubles or the troubles of some stranger. This is about helping a teammate. A friend."

"He's not a friend. Not mine."

A look of astonishment adorned Iruka's features. "Then at least, as a fellow citizen of the Leaf Village—"

"No, not a citizen of the Leaf. He gave up that right when he left Naruto for dead, abandoned Konoha, and joined forces with Orochimaru. He reinforced his betrayal when he tried to kill Naruto again and joined forces with Madara. Turning over a new leaf at the final hour will not change the facts. He is a threat, not a comrade. He is a missing nin, and the punishment for being a missing nin is execution." Not a threat or a certainty. Kakashi held no anger in his words or any other emotion that would suggest he believed any one way about the situation. He merely recited the facts as he understood them.

Iruka gawked at him, in horror, as if Kakashi had just murdered one of his students right before his very eyes.

He was slowly raising from his seat, too, his movements unknown to him. "Do you practice that in the mirror? How can you say that about Sasuke?"

"These are the facts, as recorded—"

"Why would you even think—?"

"I'm merely stating the fa—"

"You know the circumstances—!"

"The decisions he made are—"

"You're being ridiculous!"

"And you're being irrational, Iruka-sensei." Kakashi approached Iruka, closing the gap between them. "If you didn't know him at all, if he wasn't Sakura and Naruto's former teammate and your former student, how would you feel?" he asked. "Sasuke's file reads like a criminal's dossier. Any ally village reading his records would think him an enemy, a spy—that he's not to be trusted. His crimes were not small. He tried to kill a fellow shinobi. That offense alone calls for imprisonment. If you didn't know him, you would think that he deserved that much."

"I know," Iruka said, eyeing him closely, "but I do know Sasuke, and so do you."

"I once knew Sasuke, Iruka."

"You know Sasuke better than anyone in this village. Better than Naruto, and that's the truth."

"...That remains to be seen." Kakashi looked over Iruka's shoulder and noticed Take's homework still sitting on top of the pile. The date written on the corner was in accordance to the date Iruka assigned the work, which was yesterday. Odd, Kakashi thought.

"Naruto needed me to visit Sasuke, and I did."

"What...?"

"I said—"

"I'm aware of what you said," Kakashi replied, glaring at the chunin. "…How is he?"

Iruka glared back. He turned around, pulling his chair towards him. "Why don't you go visit him and find out?"

Kakashi grabbed Iruka's arm and pulled him. "What did he tell you?"

Iruka looked down at his arm. "Let go of my arm, Kakashi."

Kakashi let go, but he didn't back away. He wanted to know why...why Iruka would agree to see Sasuke. Why would Naruto ask? Iruka was a chunin, an Academy sensei, not a trained mediator. What condition made Iruka useful?

The bell rang.

"Iruka-sensei, please find the time to eat lunch. That's an order." Kakashi reached down and picked up the meal from Ichiraku's. He handed it to the chunin.  
Flustered, Iruka dropped the bag on his desk.

"Wait," he snapped, hoping that by the time he turned around Kakashi would still be standing in his classroom. "Don't leave yet."

"Tonight."

"What?"

"Tonight, Iruka-sensei."

Kakashi clasped his hands together, formed the appropriate hand seals, and disappeared. Iruka coughed, fanning away the puff of smoke left behind. As the residue of the jutsu cleared, he could see his class bustling through the classroom door. Their faces had lifted, exponentially, with cheery smiles and bites of laughter. Their faces were bright with the sun, and it was clear that the lunch break had done them good. If he played his cards right, he could get his rejuvenated class to complete an entire chapter by the end of class.

Iruka didn't know whether or not he had the energy to teach an entire chapter, but one thing he knew for certain was that the excitement brought on by the Hokage's presence had been replaced by a good lunch and ample playtime.

"I smell food!" Tsuki said, racing towards his desk. The moment he reached out and grabbed the bag, Iruka grabbed his hands and pulled them away. "Hey, share the wealth, Iruka-sensei."

"With all twenty of you?" Iruka asked, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.

"Did the Hokage-sama leave this for you?" Tsuki asked, searching the room. Iruka grinned weakly, knowing the boy expected his great Hokage-sama to suddenly reappear.

"Yes, he did."

"It's Ichiraku's. I can tell," Tsuki exclaimed, reaching for the bag again. Iruka pulled his hands away again, his reflexes being second-nature. None of this seemed to faze Tsuki. "That was nice of the Hokage-sama, wasn't it?"

"Yes. It was." Iruka watched the rest of his class return to their seats, while their boisterous conversations filled the room.

"You didn't...kill him, did you?"

"No!" Iruka frowned, appalled, but Tsuki didn't look convinced. In that moment, the redheaded boy had grown subdued and hesitant, recalling class time before lunch and replaying every time Iruka scolded or lectured him for making even the smallest of sounds. "I don't think I could win a battle against the Hokage." Although, the chunin wished he could. He made a point to award Tsuki a broad smile, to show his student that he had returned to being a more docile sensei. "Don't worry. I'm not mad anymore."

"You're not?"

"No," Iruka answered, affectionately patting the top of Tsuki's head.

Tsuki grinned mischievously. "Then...can we spend the rest of class socializin'?"

"Don't be daft," Iruka scoffed, swatting Tsuki on the back of the head.

"Owie!" Tsuki rubbed his phantom injury, marching back to his seat. "What am I, the village punching bag?"

Iruka watched Tsuki go, sporting a sympathetic smile. He then turned to address the whole class. "Alright! Settle down, settle down. Class has resumed and break is officially over. If you stop talking and pay attention you might just leave without having to do any homework."

Absolute silence washed over his students.

Iruka felt relieved.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed ^_^


	10. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A real reconciliation.

Kakashi had materialized on a road known well to the shinobi of Konoha. It cleared a path through the training fields and stretched out along the river docks. Every so often, swift steps, the thud of combat, and the high-pitched clink of metal clashed amid the surrounding trees. Kakashi could hear them, the shinobi responsible for making those sounds. He heard their grunts and their shouts, only overpowered by the swiftness of their movements, coupled with the force of their impact. He had no doubt that these two were jonin. Whoever fought beyond those trees now would be worthy opponents, highly skilled shinobi that Kakashi could spar with and feel challenged. He followed every kick, every punch, and a variety of unusual contact blows.

Very seldom did they move apart to dodge or use their equipment: kunais, shurikens, smoke bombs...were Kakashi with them, he would have told the lighter, smaller jonin—and he could tell—to keep his right arm elevated, to use as a shield, whenever his sparring partner served him an unexpected upper body attack. These unexpected attacks occurred often. He was unfocused, Kakashi reasoned, too concerned with keeping the strength of his stance and protecting his legs. The other jonin, a larger and much more solid presence, never lost control of his movements and, apparently, was well aware of his opponent's weak spots.

Kakashi considered walking back, to serve solely as their audience. Perhaps they would permit it, considering he was their Hokage. The opportunity passed him by, however, as the last clank of metal rang through the air. His feet had carried him to the end of the trail, where a clearing of green hills steeped into the adjacent water. Now, as he approached the base of the hill, his eye spotted a growing dot sitting on one of the docks; the body of a child, with its legs dangling over the edge.

So he approached it.

"You," he said, not in delight or contempt but, simply, as an acknowledgment of the other's presence.

The other did not greet him so amicably.

"Oh," it said. "It's just you." Take slapped his hands against the solid lumber beneath him and shot from the dock. He did not falter before his Hokage, even when it was just the two of them, and Kakashi was certain that only one of them knew how to kill a full-grown man with a thumb and index finger. Showing bravado in a classroom setting, with school peers as witnesses, was quite different from facing a trained killer on an out-of-the-way path. Kakashi's experience in intimidating children led him to expect certain behavior. So when Take walked away and made sure to step on his foot in the process, the jonin stood mildly fascinated while absorbing the acute pain in his big toe.

"Mm...Just me," Kakashi hummed. He quickly followed behind the pre-genin, mimicking his steps from the dock to the sloping grass. Little did Take know, or care, that Kakashi had followed him up the slope and back onto the only road leading into the village center.

"Where are you headed?"

Take didn't respond.

"You should be in class," Kakashi voiced, eyeing Take's stiff movements.

"You're not my dad. You can't tell me what to do," Take snapped over his shoulder.

"I'm your Hokage," Kakashi reasoned, but Take kept walking. "...If Iruka-sensei demanded that you go back to class, this instant, would you go?"

Take stopped and turned around, frowning, while hostility remained etched into his brow. "Why? Is that why you're here? Did Iruka-sensei send you?"

"No."

"Didn't he get my homework?"

"Yes," Kakashi replied, categorizing Take's question under informative. It explained why the jonin had seen the boy's homework, dated the same as every other sheet of homework.

Take turned on his heel and walked away.

"…You went to the Academy this morning, didn't you?" Kakashi asked the back of Take's head. "You went to turn in your homework. Based on your question, I can deduce you left it on Iruka's desk, before he got there. You broke in, considering the Academy locks all doors when classes are over."

"Does this have a point, Hokage-sama?"

"You went out of your way to turn in your homework but you won't go to class," Kakashi noted with some amusement. Take's stomping feet increased in volume.

"So?"

"Does completing Iruka's assignments make you feel less guilty?"

"Shut up!"

"Maa…You respect him. I doubt that's insignificant," Kakashi drawled, lethargically pulling back his robes. He dug his hands into his pockets. "I have a feeling there aren't many people you respect."

Take stopped, turning again. "I like Iruka-sensei," he sneered, "and I despise you."

"Despise is a strong word, especially coming from someone I didn't know existed until a couple of days ago," Kakashi remarked. Take crossed his arms and looked away. "Hatred doesn't exist simply to exist. Usually there's a reason behind it."

"What do you want from me?" Take shouted, throwing his arms into the air. Only a few minor observations and, already, the boy stood fuming, Kakashi thought. He was just as temperamental as the chunin sensei he held in such high regard. "If Iruka-sensei doesn't want me back, then why are you here?"

"I never said Iruka-sensei didn't want you back," Kakashi clarified, though he didn't quite understand why telling Take this was necessary. "He seems to feel it's your choice. He said he understood."

Take's face softened, dare Kakashi think, in fondness for the chunin sensei.

"On the contrary, Iruka-sensei wants nothing else but to see you return to the Academy." Kakashi had planted a seed of doubt, if the torn look in Take's eyes was any indication. For someone so burdened with compulsive acts of stubbornness, Take still was nothing more but an impressionable kid.

"Just, leave me alone." Take marched off again.

"Mm...? I think I'll follow you some more," Kakashi beamed, filing in line behind Take's footsteps.

"You can say whatever you want, Old Man. I'm not going to go to class just because you tell me to."

"Ne, I'm not old," Kakashi frowned. "I'm only thirty-one, Bamboo Boy."

"You're only a perverted, old scarecrow," Take shot back, "and don't call me that!"

"I thought we were in the business of name-calling." Kakashi walked up beside Take, expecting the boy to ignore him. He did. "Does insulting others only apply to one age group?"

"You're older," Take said, his focus decisively fixed on the road ahead. "Older people should know better."

"You think being older makes a person more mature. That must also apply to the reverse, making you, and all your decisions, immature." Kakashi stepped into Take's path. "You are unfit to decide when and when not to show up for class. And I'm not old."

Take scowled, eyeing him up and down. "Get out of my way."

"No," Kakashi replied starkly. "You're an advanced student, far above the level of your peers. You're smart, and you know it. Why jeopardize your only redeeming quality by skipping class?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't," Kakashi insisted, "but your strength is vital to Konohagakure. As Hokage, it would be negligent of me to disregard this treason."

Take stared disbelievingly. "I'm nine. What are you going to do, imprison me?"

"No," Kakashi replied. "I'm going to force you to go back to the Academy."

Two crops of silver hair, a jonin and pre-genin, stared at one another. They stood, unwavering. Kakashi didn't move out of Take's way, despite Take's blatant impatience. Eventually, the boy made a show of it, growling as he walked around the jonin's still form.

"Tch. I think I hated you less when all you did was stand around, reading your pervy book." Kakashi circled around, watching Take walk away. Take began walking backwards, smirking. "If you're going to threaten someone, you should follow through. Otherwise, you look weak."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kakashi said. He was beginning to feel frustration tug at the corners of his lips. This was another uncommon phenomenon, much like Iruka for Kakashi, where preliminary perception was often misleading. Kakashi doubted whether knowing Iruka's brightest student would show up along his path made much of a difference to how convincing he could be. Much like Neji, a fallen comrade of war, once believed, Kakashi also believed Take became annoyed and grew uncomfortable when it came to truths he'd rather ignore and people he didn't like or, in this case, despised.

He also noted a lot of dissimilarities between the boy walking ahead of him and the noble that had valiantly given his life on the battlefield. Take's appearance was nowhere near nobility, His wild hair shot out in every-which direction, unkempt, and the clothes on his back were old and tattered. Even his shoes seemed to be falling apart. Kakashi understood that most boys his age did not care about appearances, often ruining their possessions with excessive training or playing, collecting dirt and mud in the process. But most boys Take's age were not permitted to wear the same clothes two days in a row. Kakashi didn't need the acute senses of his ninken to know that Take was wearing the same clothes from the day before.

"Why are you just standing there?" Take called out.

Kakashi took another hard look at the boy standing before him. "I was under the impression you didn't want me to follow you. Then again," he shrugged, stepping forward, "maybe you want me to follow you."

"I don't!" Take scoffed. "I'm done listening to your mind games, you pervy old scarecrow."

"Then go to class."

"NO."

"Alright," Kakashi sighed, "then a compromise."

Take's face flooded with skepticism, but Kakashi was more focused on the glow of his hazel eyes.

"Fortunately for you, my interest in reading in no way impedes my vision. You exerted a powerful pulse of energy that sent Tsuki-kun flying across the classroom. Your chakra is more concentrated than any other pre-genin currently attending the Academy. I can teach you how to control the energy you possess and use it to overpower your enemies."

"Teach me anything and I'll only turn around and use it against you."

"An empty threat," Kakashi drawled, staring lazily at the road ahead. "I taught you, you turned against me, and that didn't end very well for you, did it?"

"Shut up."

"Did you like being humiliated? Did you appreciate looking weak in front of your classmates, in front of your sensei?”

"I said, shut up!" Take threw a punch that Kakashi dodged with ease. He pulled one hand from his pockets, wrapping a small wrist within his tight grip. Take cried out, helpless against the jonin standing over him, twisting his arm behind his back. "Let go of me!”

"With strength like yours, you shouldn't have to beg. You are begging, yes?"

Take said nothing in response. Kakashi tightened his grip, forcing a pained hiss from the boy's mouth.

"You are too smart and too skilled to fall into the same position twice, Take. The inability to control your emotional outbursts will blind you to enemy attacks and, just like now, you will be powerless." Kakashi released his hold. Take quickly staggered away, nursing his left arm.

Kakashi frowned. "I can sense how powerful your chakra is, but you have no idea how to release it. What you did to Tsuki-kun truly was unintentional."

"So what if it was?" Take scoffed, his eyes watering, his voice shaking with hurt.

"I can show you how to release energy in a productive manner, with techniques you can use to increase your control. It's not a simple matter of pressing your hands together."

"Iruka-sensei can teach me all that stuff."

"He can only teach you the basics. I'm offering to teach you techniques that match and exceed your skill level." The jonin heaved a great sigh. Take's doubt was beginning to ebb away, but his face remained riddled with distrust. "Something tells me you like knowing you're more advanced than your entire class."

"I do," Take bitterly admitted, looking anywhere but at his Hokage.

"Let me train you, and you can prove to everyone just how skilled you are."

"What do you want me to do?" Take asked. Kakashi approached him, his hands reemerging from the pockets of his navy-blue pants.

"My proposal is this: You show up at the Academy and attend class every day, and I'll train you. Do not dismiss the importance of your lessons. That boredom you feel isn't because you don't belong to be there, learning what the other students are learning, but because you aren't being challenged. Being a shinobi isn't just about knowing your skills are better. It's about using your skills to the best of your ability. To the advantage of your village."

The jonin knelt down. When he reached out and took hold of Take's arm, he wasn't surprised by the boy's lack of resistance. The pre-genin was much too proud to shy away or even admit pain, if his arm was broken.

"There's nothing wrong with your arm," Kakashi told him, gently bending the limb back and forward. He was testing the muscle and bone for tears and breaks. "You should be fine."

Better he check Take's arm now than wait for Iruka to find out later. He'd end up staking out on some branch again. He pushed the arm down, glancing at Take with an exhausted stare. Yesterday had convinced Kakashi that twenty children were too much to handle. Team 7 had led him to believe that only three was a handful. Now one, alone, was draining him of his energy. Iruka truly was a lot stronger than he led on, or, more tolerant, at least.

"If you go back now, you can make it for the end of class."

"Then, what's the point?"

"It's a technicality," Kakashi replied. "Two hours of attendance is better than no attendance, but only for today. Starting tomorrow, you have to attend a full day's class. Do you understand?"

"Yeah...I understand." Take watched him, intently, but Kakashi had learned quite recently that it was foolish to feel intimidated by the insufferable brat. "I still hate you," the boy scowled.

"Though your unexplained hatred for me is very interesting, it's neither important nor relevant to my motives."

"And what are your motives?"

"I already told you," Kakashi said. "If it's necessary, I will walk you back to the Academy." Indeed, the road they were on would lead them back to the large, public structure. It would only take, approximately, seven minutes from their current position. Kakashi stood up, his one visible eye smiling. "Iruka-sensei will be pleased to see you."

Take frowned. "Are you his friend?"

"Maa…I don't follow you." Kakashi said, blinking.

"I asked if you're friends, with Iruka-sensei." Take glared. "It's either a yes or no. If you can't answer that question, then maybe I don't want to be trained by the likes of you." He folded his arms together, the left one over the right. "Are you and Iruka-sensei friends?"

Kakashi felt something short of agitation overwhelm him. The boy's stare, alone, was challenging him. He briefly wondered whether his answer was significant to the boy's cooperation. What did his relation to Iruka have to do with anything, anyway? Friend was a term used too loosely, these days, but whether it applied to him and Iruka...

"I don't know," he answered honestly. Kakashi had never experienced such blatant staring from one child before and for reasons that had nothing to do with the mask on his face.

"Tch..." Take walked on. Easily, Kakashi fell back in step beside him.

The two walked in silence, until the clearing and the docks were far behind them. They were coming up on the main road, now, which was used often by both merchants and village guests. Training fields still surrounded them but, every now and then, a few acres of farmland met their way. They even passed by a few farms Kakashi recalled from years ago, where Team 7 completed many of their D-class missions.

"Speaking of friends," Kakashi said, the topic stumbling awkwardly from his lips. "I'm sure your friends will be equally pleased to see you in class."

"I'm not friends with any of those people," Take sneered in response.

"Oh?" Kakashi glanced down, his gaze meeting soft spikes of silver hair. "What about Tsuki-kun?"

"He's not my friend. He's an idiot."

"Ne? You two seemed pretty friendly to me."

"That's because he's the only one who wants to hang out with me." Take kicked a passing pebble off the road. "No one else likes me, which is fine, because I don't like any of them either."

"And Tsuki-kun?"

"Like I said," Take stopped in the middle of the road. "He's an idiot."

"Well, maybe." Kakashi stopped as well, his hands digging back into his pockets. "Maybe not. He wants to be friends with the smartest kid in class. That doesn't sound idiotic to me."

"I guess," Take murmured. He looked away, down at the road, and noticed a crowd of small rocks bouncing and shaking on the ground. Take frowned, his immediate response being one of alarm. "Something's happening," he said, turning sharply towards the Hokage. "Something's coming!"

"I know," Kakashi admitted, and regrettably so. He also felt the rumble of noise speeding their way. "I've grown accustom to it."

"Accustom to what?"

"MY ETERNAL RIVAL!"

Kakashi bowed his head and closed his eye.

When he reopened his eye, he prayed to see nothing more than the road up ahead. This did not occur, of course, because such luck did not come easily to the jonin. But the thunder of swift, heavy-footed steps drew nearer and more pronounced, as the seconds passed by. Two pairs of stampeding feet, the jonin noted, not one.

"What's going on?" Take looked around frantically.

"You'll see," Kakashi mumbled. Not a second later, a loud and boisterous jonin appeared. Take jumped away, when an arm swung around Kakashi's neck. He jumped again, to avoid being tackled by another, younger jonin.

"Kakashi-sama!" Rock Lee shouted, saluting his rather indifferent Hokage.

"Lee," Kakashi acknowledged, and as for the jonin hanging around his neck... "And to think I honestly thought I was imagining things."

"Oh, Kakashi!" Gai laughed and slapped his back, causing Kakashi to double over. "You blossom hip jokes!" With a broad smile and a slap against Kakashi's shoulder, Gai's gaze fell upon the boy standing at the edge of the road. "And who's your little friend, my wonderfully youthful rival?"

"I am not his friend," Take sneered.

Kakashi looked between the two but noted Gai's confusion, in particular. "Oh. A jokester! Just like Kakashi, I see!"

"I take it it's you and Lee training in the fields?"

"Too right you are, Kakashi," Gai hummed. "Not all of us have the privilege of sitting around, attending to nothing but meetings and paperwork, like a Hokage does! Lee and I have an upcoming mission, so it's necessary we spend our youthful pastime training to our utmost ability. Isn't that right, Lee?" Gai winked, flexing his biceps and caressing his arms.

"Yes, sir!" Lee nodded, stepping forward. He reached out, extending a hand in Take's direction. "My name is Rock Lee, pupil of Gai-sensei, but you can call me Lee or 'The Magnificent Lee!'"

"I taught him that," Gai whispered, loudly into Kakashi's ear.

"Yeah. I figured as much." Kakashi stared back with a shifty gaze. He looked between Lee and Take, waiting and wondering whether Iruka's student would shake hands with Gai's proud pupil, a jonin similarly cursed with a bowl-cut hairstyle, bushy eyebrows, and an ill-advised green spandex outfit.

After some hesitance, Take reached out.

"I'm Hamamoto Take," they shook hands, "student of Iruka-sensei…and the Hokage-sama," he finished sourly.

Lee nodded receptively. "I've known Kakashi-sama for a very long time, but not as long as Gai-sensei. They've been friends for years."

"Really." Take said, looking between the strange man still flexing in the middle of the road and the leaner, paler man doing everything in his power to ignore him. "Your sensei called him 'Eternal Rival'. That doesn't sound very friendly to me."

"No, you're mistaken!" Lee exclaimed with unyielding resolve. "That's just how they act around each other. Gai-sensei is always looking for a challenge, and no one challenges him more than Kakashi-sama. Striving to be the best makes them rivals, but they're really very good friends. Almost like brothers," Lee said, looking back to watch his sensei in awe and astonishment.

Gai had already gone through a routine of poses and was now standing on his hands. Kakashi stood back while, every now then, patting his mask to conceal very loud yawns.

"Naruto-kun doesn't really understand it, either, but I do." Lee looked back towards Take. "Do you know Naruto-kun?"

"No, not personally," Take cringed, watching with pained eyes as Gai performed, what could only be, a ritual dance. "I hear other people say his name often, though. Iruka-sensei mentions him, a lot. He likes to visit the Academy sometimes, too."

"You'll probably get to know him a lot more, if you stick with Kakashi-sama."

"Tch...Maybe I shouldn't want to know him, if he's acquaintances with that pervy scarecrow," Take sneered, folding his arms across his chest.

Lee's eyes grew wide, causing the upper lashes to press against his eyebrows. "Don't you like Kakashi-sama?

"No."

"You look just like him."

Take scowled. "You don't look too original yourself, Bushy-Brow."

"Wow," Lee breathed, staring at Take with something akin to amazement. "You're probably just as strong as he was, too."

"Just as strong as who?" Take backed away, because Lee was shoving his face right in front of his.

Lee pulled back, smiling. "You might look like Kakashi-sama, but you're just like—"

"LEE!"

Lee turned, standing alert. "Yes, Gai-sensei!"

"Don't get comfortable! Our training is not done yet!"

"Yes, sir!" Lee saluted.

"Looks like our challenge will have to wait another day, my eternal rival."

"Oh, I anticipate it," Kakashi replied, dryly. He felt a large hand pat against his shoulder, while the owner offered him a somewhat comforting grin.

"Give Iruka-sensei my regards," he winked. He turned to his matching pupil. "Let's go, Lee!"

"Yes sir!" Lee shouted, and the two were off, speeding down the road. Kakashi and Take came together, watching as two whirlwind blurs of green and orange turned into dots, then into specs, until only their distant shouts and passionate cries could be heard, terrorizing the rest of their village.

"What was that?"

"Maa...That was Maito Gai and his long-term pupil, Rock Lee," Kakashi said, watching Take for a reaction. He looked, more or less, dazed by the encounter. "Do not be fooled. The jonin you've just met are two of Konoha's strongest shinobi."

"I don't care," Take frowned, glaring at Kakashi. "If we have to wear matching outfits, I'm backing out of this training deal—"

"No," Kakashi muttered quickly. "No, no, no..." He shook his head, not quite sure who he was trying to convince.

 

* * *

 

"So that's it, then?" Kakashi asked. Iruka sat on the other side of the coffee table, frowning.

"That's it," Iruka answered, holding his empty tea cup in mid-air. "From what I was told—from what I saw..."

Kakashi nodded, watching the chunin set his cup down. Iruka's face appeared void of all emotion or, perhaps, he was just tired. Odd, Kakashi thought, since he assigned Kotetsu and Izumo to handle Iruka's workload. Even with an entire afternoon free, Kakashi sensed a restlessness in Iruka that no amount of off-time could cure.

"This doesn't change anything," Kakashi remarked. He wished that it did, if only to alleviate Iruka's concern.

"No... I guess it doesn't." Iruka rose from his seat, stacking their plates and empty cups in the process. "Did you enjoy dinner, Kakashi-san?"

Kakashi climbed to his feet as well. "Maa...very good, Iruka-sensei. Of course, all your meals are as satisfying as the last."

"Thanks," Iruka muttered, unable to suppress the blush spreading over his scarred nose. He turned, heading for the kitchen.

"Let me assist you," Kakashi held him back, taking the dishes and setting them on the kitchen counter himself.

He could feel Iruka's eyes watching him, as though he'd never seen him before, but he ignored it. He went about separating the cups from the plates, setting the flat dishware in the sink, where he then rinsed and stacked them. He rinsed the silverware and set them down in that small basket sitting next to the dish-rack. When he was done, Kakashi still felt Iruka's stare burning into the back of his covered neck.

"Mm?" he hummed. Kakashi turned, gripping the edge of the sink. "You're tired. I thought I could help."

"I am tired," Iruka smiled weakly, leaning against the pillar that separated the kitchen from the living room, "and you are helping."

"I pull my weight around here, don't I?" Kakashi said, gripping his sides in a very Iruka-esque manner.

"If you say so," Iruka snorted, crossing his arms. "The ninken clean up better than you."

"Where are they, by the way?" Kakashi asked. With the exception of Pakkun, he hadn't seen his mutts since they decided to betray him and take Iruka's side. He didn't know if he wanted to see them, actually, knowing they preferred the chunin over their own human, still. He expected such playful disloyalty from most of them but thought Pakkun, at least, would side with him or not take sides at all.

"They're in bed, already waiting for me."

"Ah, yes," Kakashi said, approaching Iruka. "Those deceitful little...ninken. Ne, I guess you should take them, since they favor you more. Of course, I'll have to show you the proper scrolls, how to control them and their own individual chakra. It's a jutsu, as you know, handed down through generations of the Hatake line, but I'm sure you can manage..."

"No...I couldn't possibly deprive you of their company."

"You already have," Kakashi droned, hanging his arm against the pillar. Iruka looked up at him, a smirk on his face. Kakashi found impeccability to Iruka's smirk.

"Thanks, again, for bringing Take-kun back," the chunin smiled. "You didn't have to do that."

Kakashi shrugged. "He was en route."

Iruka laughed lightly, leaning forward. "Is that how you excuse your altruism, Kakashi-san?"

Kakashi met him halfway, humming. "Maa, it's either that or claim ignorance to the concept."

"Yes," Iruka chuckled, "I guess that's how you'd go about things."

"Would you prefer me any other way, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi chuckled, an unseen grin escaping his lips. The chunin's smile faltered, Kakashi observed with some curiosity.

"Yes, well..." Iruka scratched the bridge of his nose, and the displaced air brushed up against Kakashi's mask. "I think Take is warming up to you now. He was very subdued, this afternoon."

"Mm, I think that was more of Gai and Lee's doing," the jonin clarified. "I'm sure it's an overwhelming experience, meeting the both of them at the same time."

"Well that's true," Iruka chuckled softly. "Still, I wonder how you managed to convince Take to come back. What did you say, Kakashi-san? I've seen Take hold grudges before. He's not a very forgiving person," Iruka said sadly. "Maybe he really is warming up to you."

"No," Kakashi mumbled softly. "He made sure to tell me how much he hated me."

"He doesn't hate you," Iruka pressed.

"Yes, he does. Not that I care, but I told him..." Kakashi paused to reevaluate his words.

He could tell Iruka the truth that he bargained with a nine-year-old child, promising to train him in skills and potentially dangerous techniques above his age group, in hopes that such an incentive would motivate Take to go to school.

Or, he could lie. "I told him it would please you, to see him returned. I told him you were worried. You wanted him to return but feared dragging him back yourself would make you look too overbearing." A half-lie of sorts.

"Gee," Iruka grumbled, with a raised brow. "I don't remember telling you that last part," one-quarter, perhaps, "Although, it is true." Ah, a full truth, and Kakashi didn't even have to try.

"I thought it would be," Kakashi drawled, "Otherwise, the Iruka-sensei I know was kidnapped, and you're an impostor." Iruka slapped a hand against his head but smiled nonetheless. Kakashi followed him with a lazy chuckle. When Iruka pulled his hand back, a strand of hair fell out of place. Before the chunin could pull it back, Kakashi reached out and did it for him. A pale thumb paused, grazing over Iruka's earlobe. The chunin's skin was just as warm as it had ever been. More and more, Kakashi was getting used to the sensation.

"Kakashi...?" Kakashi lowered his hand to watch the flush across Iruka's face spread over the tips of his ears, making them more pronounced against a backdrop of flowing brown hair.

"Mm?" Iruka was watching him again, almost, expectantly, and Kakashi feared the chunin might be able to tell he wasn't telling the whole truth. That was preposterous, of course. He was a jonin and former Anbu member. He wore a mask for many reasons, but mostly to conceal the emotions on his face.

That Iruka could possibly read his face, when no other shinobi could, made him uneasy. The gleam in the chunin's gaze was most reminiscent of earlier that day, when Iruka said he saw sadness in his eye. Kakashi didn't think he was sad; frustrated, perhaps, with a decision he had no other choice but to make. It was the Hokage's role to keep the peace, to withhold from condemning others to death, by any means possible. Kakashi had done many things, in the span of his career, but killing others with a few words and a head nod was not a duty he'd been looking forward to. He'd rather look his enemies in the eye and truly know that they deserved swiftness or every agonizing moment of their death.

No, Kakashi thought, Iruka could not possibly know this. Knowing Iruka and his insufferable idealism, the chunin would be disgusted to know that innocent victims of Madara's mind-control were executed. Iruka would be yelling at him, if he knew, but he wasn't. So…why did Iruka watch him as though his every deed was written upon his face?

"Iruka-sensei."

"Yes?"

"Do you hate me?"

"Eh?" Iruka stumbled back, confusion settling over his weary features. "What do you mean?"

"Do you hate me," Kakashi repeated.

Iruka stared, appalled. "No!"

"It's alright, if you do. You have every reason to," Kakashi sighed, letting his half-lidded stare wander off. "If a student of yours can hate me for no reason, then you must have plenty of reasons to feel the same way."

"Kakashi-san, I do not hate you," Iruka stated firmly.

"Why not?"

"I just...don't." Iruka shrugged. "Kakashi," he stepped closer, catching the jonin's one-eyed gaze. "I don't hate you, and Take doesn't hate you. Not really. He's young. He doesn't know what hate is, what it truly means to hate someone. When he attacked you, he had no idea what he was doing. He's just..." Iruka trailed away, searching for the right words. "He lets his anger get the best of him, that's all."

"And you?"

"Me?" Kakashi saw a coy smile slowly return to Iruka's face. "I guess I'm just very forgiving, Kakashi-san."

Iruka reached out and, though he was quite certain the chunin's aim was to rest a reassuring hand against his shoulder, it was an instinctual reaction for Kakashi to reach up and take hold of the foreign appendage. The look of surprise on the other man's face did not extend to Kakashi, who expected the feel of Iruka's skin against his own. Eventually, his grip relaxed.

Eventually, the younger man relaxed within his grip.

The hand in his was deceptively soft, too, considering Iruka's profession. Considering their profession. Gentle and caring, Iruka's hands promised much more whereas Kakashi's hands were good for one thing and one thing only...Kakashi very much enjoyed the consistency of Iruka's temperature, too, if not always the chunin's temperament.

He pressed his hand over Iruka's, placing them both up against the base of his neck. Very soothing, Kakashi thought. It was another sensation their kind seldom experienced. It would seem Iruka's lack of field experience and overall sedentary function left him at an advantage Kakashi had never known. As a kid, he'd bitten off the tips of fingers more times than it was necessary to count, leaving them calloused and harder than shells. Now Kakashi only ever felt a slight twinge of pain, whenever he summoned his ninken or did anything else, for that matter. He suffered from scar tissue on the palms of his hands, where opponents had felt it advantageous to stab him through with swords, kunais, and shurikens.

Kakashi looked to Iruka again, examining more than that uncertain stare. As far as Kakashi could tell, there were no visible marks marring Iruka's body, besides the clean cut across his face.

"I'm going to need my hand back, Kakashi-san," Iruka whispered.

"Oh...right." Kakashi released Iruka's hand, and that sensation at the tips of his fingers disappeared. "Iruka-sensei, you are a very soft person," he said.

"So you've told me before, Kakashi-san," Iruka frowned.

"I mean it as a compliment this time," Kakashi reached out, taking hold of Iruka's hand again. He expected Iruka to protest, but he didn't. "Hands are very telling," he said, stroking the palm with the pad of his finger. "Your complexion makes you appear rougher than you are."

"I am rough," Iruka scowled.

Kakashi just looked at him. "Of course, Iruka-sensei."

"No, I'm serious. I can scare my students pretty good, sometimes."

"That's not fear you see," Kakashi said, focusing on the contour of Iruka's knuckles. "That's not intimidation. Whenever your students show trepidation, Iruka-sensei, it is because they are afraid of disappointing you. Take Take, for instance. With no intention of staying for class, he still showed up to turn in his homework."

"He does that often," Iruka muttered, but his attention had long since grown weak. Kakashi felt he was being indulged, allowed to examine the length of Iruka's hand with his own. He reached down, below the knuckles, mapping out the span of skin above the chunin's wrist before traveling upwards, to intertwine his fingers with Iruka's.

Then Kakashi turned his hand over, rubbing the tips against Iruka's. "This is rough," he explained, before letting go.

Iruka nursed his hand, his gaze concentrated on it, confusing the masked man standing before him. Iruka couldn't possibly be so fragile, breaking at the slightest touch. Or, maybe, Iruka didn't really like being touched, Kakashi thought, and that he could understand. He didn't like being touched either. This new fascination with the texture of Iruka's skin, and the sensations that came with it, were equally unsettling. "I hope I didn't upset you," he voiced.

"You didn't," Iruka reassured him. The chunin smiled. "In any case, I'm forgiving. Remember?" Iruka's laugh was airy and short, leaving room for a very long silence.

"…Ne, I wonder why Take's such an angry brat," Kakashi pondered out loud, as that afternoon replayed in his mind. That he was here, with Iruka, meant the chunin had forgiven him to some degree. He wouldn't have to go another night without sleep, watching Iruka and his ninken from a distance. He could be assured that they were in the next room, while he kept close track of their slow pulsing chakra signatures. Kakashi could now spend his night staring at Iruka's ceiling, dissecting Take, who was more complicated than Kakashi first expected; a very interestingly aggressive child. What would be the best method to getting Take to cooperate with him? Obey him? Kakashi didn't want to have to train someone who was reluctant to learn.

"I thought you said you didn't care."

"I don't." Kakashi paused, watching Iruka's doubt stare him down. "It's just…interesting."

Iruka still didn't look convinced, but Kakashi wasn't trying to convince Iruka. Was he? He didn't have to care about someone to find their behavior a worthy subject matter, did he? Kakashi hadn't even put much thought into what Take had to say, had he?

"You're not as bad as you think you are, Kakashi-san."

"Mm?"

"I said you're not as bad as you think you are." Iruka looked to his hand, thoughtfully. "I should go to bed, now."

"Of course," Kakashi agreed. It was getting late. He reached out, not really knowing that he had until he saw his hand grasping at the space between him and Iruka. The jonin quickly lowered his arm, frowning at the confused limb. Iruka looked equally perplex but responded with a hesitant smile.

"R-right," Iruka stuttered, quickly turning. "Hand me your robes," he called over his shoulder, "so I can hang them up in the hallway closet." Kakashi walked over to the couch, reached down, and grabbed his robes. He tossed them, thinking he'd catch the chunin off-guard. Iruka, however, caught them with one outstretched hand.

"You're quick," Kakashi chuckled, hoping he didn't sound too impressed.

Iruka's small smile grew into a smirk. "Kakashi-san, how many times have we done this?"

"Would you like a numerical estimation?"

Iruka swatted the idea away. "Spare me, please," he yawned. "All I do is work with percentages and numbers, all day long. It's nice to come home and not have to think...much."

"Agreed," Kakashi said. Iruka nodded mindlessly, folding Kakashi's robes over his arms.

The chunin addressed the candle stand placed at the center of his coffee table. "If you're still awake, and the candle wicks run out, you're more than welcomed to put in new candles. There should be some, in the drawer beside the sink," he said, turning to leave.

"Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi called out, also looking at the candle stand. What candles it held were nothing more than stumps now, reaching the end of their life expectancy. He wasn't surprised, considering how often he and Iruka used them. He'd been meaning to ask Iruka where he kept his candles, so he could replace them himself.

"Yes, Kakashi-san?"

Kakashi stared at Iruka, giving the chunin some thought. "Are we friends?"

"What?" Iruka frowned, his exhaustion more noticeable than ever before.

"Are we friends?" Kakashi repeated.

"I-I…I don't know," Iruka answered, unsure. His hold on Kakashi's robes tightened.

"...I think we are," Kakashi said. He waited.

Iruka stared, surprised at first, but the pleasant smile resurfacing on his face helped to ease the rapid beating in Kakashi's chest. "I'm glad," Iruka said. "I think we're friends too."

"Good." Kakashi plopped down, settling against Iruka's couch. All the while, Iruka remained standing by the doorway. Kakashi felt his intense stare, watching as he pulled off his other Hokage garments. Iruka was still watching him when he tossed them on top of the chunin's cluttered desk. "Maa...what is it?" he asked.

"Nothing," Iruka replied quietly. "Goodnight, Kakashi-san."

"Goodnight, Iruka-sensei."

Kakashi swung his legs over the couch, expertly dodging the coffee table in the process. He spread out, covering the expanse of Iruka's unsophisticated piece of furniture. With his head resting against the right armrest, he could see down the length of Iruka's hallway and watch as Iruka disappeared behind his bedroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	11. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a week of desk work, Kakashi's had enough, Iruka's had enough of Kakashi's having enough, and things get interesting in regards to Tsunade's death.

"I'm bored."

"I'm sure the less you say it, the less likely you are to feel it."

"I doubt it," Kakashi sighed, dragging his arms against his desk. He looked to his left, noting the disapproval on Iruka's face. "Maa...does something displease you, Iruka-sensei?"

“Yes," Iruka huffed. "I thought you'd never ask."

The chunin turned on the other, holding his clipboard beneath his tightly folded arms. He moved to the front of Kakashi's desk, demanding that the indifferent Hokage acknowledge his annoyance.

"For starters, your posture is dismal...almost nonexistent! A Hokage doesn't slouch over their desk! What if someone were to walk in here now and see you like this?"

"They'd say... "My does Hokage-sama look bored."

Kakashi didn't think Iruka could endure such a bold shade of red upon his face. It covered all traces of his skin, leaving nothing but the promise of a fiery explosion in its wake.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND, KAKASHI-SAN!"

"Inside voices, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi sighed, eyeing the chunin with amusement. This, of course, only proved to further enrage the younger man. "My ninken have acute hearing. You'll rupture their eardrums." The jonin pointed towards Akino, Bisuke, and Uhei, all of whom were taking an afternoon nap.

Bisuke opened one droopy eye, his yawning catching both men. "It's alright, Iruka. Kakashi's bluffing. We're quite content, hearing you chew him out."

"Yeah. Serves him right," Uhei grumbled, rolling over.

Akino remained peacefully unconscious.

Iruka turned back, a haughty smirk against his lips.

Kakashi frowned, staring at his rather unhelpful ninken. "I'm replacing all of you," he said.

"Bluffing," Bisuke mumbled, his eyes closed, while resting his head against Akino's back.

"In any case, Iruka-sensei, I—"

"I'm not finished yet," Iruka hissed, effectively quieting the jonin. "Secondly, a Hokage's duties are vital to the function of this village, and those duties involve sitting here and meeting the official business that comes in through that door." Iruka finished, pointing towards the door.

Kakashi's masked face scrunched up with distaste. "Ne, how can anyone expect to sit here all day?" He mused, tapping the tip of his chin. "I bet Tsunade was mortally intoxicated by this hour. I know Sarutobi-sama idled his time away with wandering the fields and a few games of Shogi."

"Not true," Iruka snapped. "He only wandered and played on his own time, not the village's time."

"Well, there you go!" Kakashi breathed whimsically, his right eye beaming. "If the Sandaime can do it, so can I."

Iruka slammed his clipboard against the edge of Kakashi's desk. "You are not going to confuse me with your psychobabble, Kakashi-san," he seethed. "This is still the village's time and not your time. Have some respect for the people you're supposed to serve to the best of your ability."

"I do respect and serve the village with the best of my ability," Kakashi said, his tone sobered by the chunin's accusation. He stared Iruka down, expecting the other man to relent and apologize, as per usual. Not serve his village to the best of his ability? He'd only been serving the village since age six to the best of his ability. "I take my duties very seriously, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka almost flung his clipboard at Kakashi's head. "Then prove it. You think I wasn't going to find out what you've been doing? I'm your assistant."

"And a very good one, who would do better to mind the tone of his voice."

"You can't have your ninken redirecting people to the missions room! You know what it's like in there during business hours!"

"If they're any kind of delegate, they would find a way to circumnavigate around large groups of shinobi."

"That's not the point, Kakashi-san, and you know it," Iruka sighed, having exhausted himself with yelling. "They shouldn't have to find their way from the missions room to your office, only to find that you're not here because Guruko or Urushi tipped you off—which reminds me…" Iruka marched over to the door and threw it open. "Get in here!" he shouted, causing two passing tokubetsu jonins to jump in fright.

Kakashi had gotten used to the familiar sounds of fellow shinobi being thrown off by the fury that was Umino Iruka. Of course, they were never responsible for the chunin's anger but victims all the same. No, Kakashi wagered...the reason could possibly be himself but, knowing himself, he would never admit it.

"I know you're out there," Iruka called out, gripping the edge of the door like a lunatic. Kakashi couldn't help but smile knowing that, for all Iruka's insistence on professionalism and appearances, the chunin would easily throw such notions out a window when necessary. "Now! Or no dinner."

Two ninkens came rushing in, speeding past Iruka's legs. They were followed by a third dog, Bull, who scurried up in a pleasant stroll.

Kakashi frowned, watching the burly black dog. "Hey…return to your post," he said, but Bull dismissed the order with one fervid shake of his jowls.

"I got bored, sitting out there all by myself, but don't worry boss…Urushi got bored of sitting at the village gates, so he came back and took my place. I was hanging back with Guruko and Shiba," he grumbled, as though it were all so simple.

Iruka stood, appalled beyond anger, gaping as Bull scampered away to join his brothers in a huddle of hounds. The chunin turned on Kakashi.

"You had them watching the village gate? You had them watching the front of this building?"

"Ma, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi raised his hands in defense, "I thought you said you already knew."

"I knew about Guruko a-and Shiba, not that they were all stationed somewhere!" Iruka slapped his hands against his hips. "Let me guess: they switch shifts, don't they?" he scowled. "Is that why these three just been lounging about all day?"

"Hey," Uhei lifted his lazy head, eyeing Iruka with a drifting gaze. "We earned our nap. Kakashi gave us nightshift. You've worked nightshifts before, Iruka-sensei. You should know what it’s like," he finished, pouting.

Iruka's gaze turned sympathetic. "Kakashi-san shouldn't be ordering you to take shifts in the first place." Then his head snapped back in the jonin's direction. "He should be accepting the visitors that come to see the Hokage, not having you all pawn them off!"

"Last time I checked, they were my ninken, Iruka-sensei."

"Last time I checked, the Hokage's ninken were assisting him in avoiding his duties and making excuses for why he never shows up in the morning!"

Well Iruka had a point there, Kakashi thought.

"Kakashi-san," Iruka dropped his arms. He reached over and grabbed his clipboard as it teetered on the edge of Kakashi's desk. "It's been over a week now and you still won't accept the fact that you can't be like you once were."

"And what was that, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka's urging stare shifted to the floor.

"You know…obscure. Aloof. A Hokage has to be accessible to their citizens and the visitors of this village. You have to be here, in your office, because you never know when an urgent matter might call for your attention."

"A very reasonable argument, Iruka-sensei, and you didn't even have to raise your voice."

Iruka's flushed face couldn't get any redder.

Kakashi stared at his desk, the very same desk he'd been staring at for the last eight days, five hours, twelve minutes, twenty-one seconds and counting. This desk saw him absent very rarely within that time. When he tried to while his time away, usually at Iruka's apartment, the chunin usually sent him back here. He wasn't certain who, but one of his ninken kept telling the Academy sensei when he wasn't going to show and, now, with a leave of absence and a substitute instructor in his stead, Iruka was at his side—every day, for the last eight days, five hours, twelve minutes, twenty-one seconds and counting, making sure Kakashi presided over the village. As Hokage, however, he was seeing a lot more desk than village.

Kakashi learned that he wasn't all that fond of staring at desks.

"Well, if you were a little more considerate… You can't be a Hokage and—"

"Iruka-sensei."

"Ah...? What is it, Kakashi-san?" Iruka blinked.

Kakashi leaned forward, the small patterns embedded in his desk now visible to his eye. "Gai and Lee haven't returned from their mission."

"I know. They aren't due back for another week," Iruka said.

Kakashi continued, "Then they're still out there on assignment. They're on the field, performing duties that no one but a trained shinobi can perform. Their actions will be second nature to them, almost as if they were born to serve one purpose and one purpose only."

Kakashi looked up, relieved to see some understanding in Iruka's eyes.

"Iruka-sensei, the way you are with your students is second nature to you."

"And what way is that?"

"Patient. Understanding. Supportive. When on missions, I know you have some competence. You wouldn't be alive, otherwise."

Iruka's eye twitched. "How can you compliment me and insult me at the same time?"

"I find it's very easy, Iruka-sensei." Kakashi sulked, all the while oblivious to the chunin now rattled with bitterness. "In any case, your first priority is your students. We're both suited for what we do, is what I mean to say." Kakashi granted the top of his desk another long, hard stare. "I do what Gai-sensei and Lee are doing now, and that is second nature to me. I don't do…this."

Iruka frowned.

"I've never done this—never had to and never wanted to." Kakashi eyed the chunin with uncertainty. "As long as I'm Hokage, my duties are performed here...I'm having difficulties accepting the new nature of my purpose."

Iruka set his clipboard back down, smiling weakly. "It's exactly the same, Kakashi-san," he said.

"No, it's not," Kakashi admonished, shaking his head.

"You're protecting the village."

"I'm watching the village," Kakashi disagreed, "I am not protecting the village. I'm doing nothing of the sort. I can't be assigned missions. I can't be eyes and ears. I have to rely on other shinobi, coming here, telling me what I should already know."

"Then be here to receive their message."

"Maa...It's not the same," Kakashi said, leaning back against his seat.

He sensed Iruka could offer no words of consolation, not that he expected him to. Iruka was a chunin who had, long ago, stagnated in his career. A few missions during the off-season, and a very rare number of assignments in between, and Iruka had settled with the position of an Academy sensei. Kakashi was once a sensei and quickly grew bored with watching his students complete mundane tasks, the real reason submitting their names for the Chunin Exam had been so appealing.

Kakashi felt a subtle change of scenery was in order. He got out of his seat and circled around that desk he could now describe in perfect detail. He sat against the edge, right beside Iruka and his measly clipboard. "My skills will decline without regular application, and that won't benefit Konoha the way you seem to think it will, Iruka-sensei," he said, disappointed. The chunin looked bewildered. Speechless. Of course, the chunin wouldn't understand.

He slipped his hands into his pockets. "Maa, Iruka-sensei..." the jonin shrugged. "Never mind. I'm aware of my responsibilities, and I will be here to fulfill them."

Now Iruka watched him intently, doubtingly, almost.

"So you'll be here, every morning?"

"Every morning."

"You'll stop avoiding meetings and village matters?"

"Yes."

"What about the ninken? You'll—"

"Iruka-sensei," Kakashi reached out, taking hold of Iruka's arm. The longer Iruka was allowed to tirade, the more unaware of the occurrence he was. However, Kakashi had learned that some form of physical contact always managed to bring Iruka back from a ranting trance. "No tricks," he said, keeping his eye fixed on Iruka's uncertain gaze. "I'll be here."

"Good."

Iruka's face reddened once more, embarrassed by his own haranguing, Kakashi gathered. After all, if the chunin didn't know by now that he had no authority over the jonin, then he never would, would he?

"Better you say something now then have one of the Elders find out, ne?" Kakashi chuckled with little sincerity. He let go of Iruka's arm, shrugging. "I should start up on some of those mission assessments." Kakashi pulled the clipboard from Iruka's hands. The jonin looked the first page up and down, noting the various A and B-class missions in need of assigning.

"Mm… the Sand is in need of assistance. They request two teams, for an escort into the Mist, stating that our alliance will help strengthen agreements with the Water country—"

Iruka snatched the clipboard back, ignoring the jonin's lazy bewilderment. "Ma, Iruka-sensei…?" Kakashi muttered, but the chunin continued to file through scroll sheets, until a unique piece of paper appeared. "Iruka-sensei…" he tried again, pushing off his desk. He stood over Iruka, expecting to intimidate the shorter man, but his overbearing presence remained unacknowledged. "I was reading that, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka looked up, scowling. "Shut up."

Kakashi's eye went wide. Iruka returned to his clipboard, pulling a pen from his pocket. Kakashi didn't know what the chunin was up to but, to be safe, he backed away. He tried leaning over to get a look at what it was Iruka was writing, but the chunin rewarded Kakashi a stern glare and turned away.

"Mm…Might I remind you that you're my assistant, Iruka-sensei, not the other way around."

"I am being your assistant," Iruka snapped over his shoulder, "by writing you a request form." Iruka turned back, a prominent frown adorning his face. Kakashi reached for Iruka's clipboard again but the chunin pulled it away. "You're miserable."

"I assure you, I am not miserable."

Iruka shook his head.

"You're miserable here," he said, grief in his voice. "It's obvious you don't want to be here, Kakashi-san." The chunin went back to writing. "You'd think someone as lazy as you would enjoy a title that calls for hours of sitting…" he trailed off, scathingly. Kakashi's eye still strained to see what it was the chunin was writing on that clipboard, however. "I don't have the authority to send you out on a mission, not that it's respectable to send a Hokage out on a mission, and your name is no longer eligible to go on the missions roster, either. What I can do is request a time slot for you to exercise your right to continue training."

Iruka stopped writing. His gaze was stern but supportive, watching Kakashi for a response. He received only a relatively dull stare from the jonin.

Iruka sighed. "I can find jonin, with skill levels relatively close to your own, to act as your sparring partners. For a few hours, every week, you can at least keep to your training regimen the way any other shinobi would, and I'll monitor your Hokage duties during that time."

Iruka paused again, waiting for a response but received none.

"Does that work for you, Kakashi-san?"

"Iruka, that's a great idea!" The two men heard the jubilant cry come from where the ninken lay, in a combination of lazy smiles and resting heads. Guruko sat beaming, with his tail wagging back and forth.

"Thanks. Hopefully, this will stop all this stake out nonsense," Iruka rolled his eyes.

"Of course, of course," Shiba added, mimicking his energetic brother. "We can train with him too, right?"

"Sure." Iruka looked back to Kakashi, smirking. "Now he won't have to spend all his time here, growing restless."

Kakashi walked over, reached for the clipboard, and, this time, Iruka handed it to him. The request form was written out in its entirety, with all the right statements and terms in the proper place. He looked between the short scroll and Iruka, wondering what other official documents the chunin sensei could write out from memory.

"Here," Iruka mumbled, producing a pen before his eye. "Sign your signature at the bottom." Kakashi took hold of the pen, staring at the dark line that had yet to be written upon. The signature "Umino Iruka" was already written out in the chunin's neat script. Kakashi set pen against paper, pausing. "What's the matter?" Iruka asked, frowning.

"...Is this really necessary?" Kakashi breathed.

Iruka grumbled, gripping his waist with a firm hand. "It's regulation, to put everything down on record. Even the Hokage must abide by the laws of the village. Sandaime's public outings were recorded, as were Godaime's frequent...indiscretions," Iruka looked away, once again growing red in the face.

"Ah," Kakashi uttered. "Does that include nights spent drinking in bars and gambling into debt?"

"Yes, you could say that it does," Iruka mumbled, "but, for Tsunade-sama's sake, Shizune and I always reported it as an outing, nonetheless."

"Mm," Kakashi looked to Iruka with a dull gaze. "Still seems pretty pointless to me."

"Just shut up and sign the sheet," Iruka growled, shoving the clipboard up against Kakashi's chest. Kakashi watched, amused, as it took the chunin a few seconds to realize what he'd just done: assaulted his Hokage with a clipboard. The jonin quirked a silver brow, and the clipboard against his chest shakily retreated. "Kakashi-san, please, sign the sheet."

Kakashi took the clipboard back and signed the sheet, still eyeing the chunin sensei. He watched Iruka as he knelt down, with his palm out towards his ninken. In return, a few of them reached out with their jowls and licked his hand. Guruko and Shiba playfully circled around him.

"The boss is gonna get some time off?"

"Technically, he spent the last week and a half getting time off," Iruka scowled playfully, scratching behind Bull's ears, "and you all helped him."

"Never," Bull said dismissively, closing his eyes in content.

"We were just pawns! Pawns in his games!" Guruko jumped up, resting his front paws on Iruka's thigh.

"It's not like we can defy him," Shiba shrugged, brushing his head against Iruka's hip. "But we can listen to you, too. You'll always have the power of veto."

"And why is that?" Iruka asked.

Shiba pulled back, grinning. "Because, Kakashi's—"

"It was nice of Iruka to think of this for you, Kakashi. You should thank him," Akino piped out. He sat on his hind legs now, watching Kakashi with an intensity that greatly disgruntled him for some reason. The jonin found himself more troubled when he realized his ninken were surrounding Iruka, like bodyguards…like a pack. He imagined that if he didn't thank the chunin, his own hounds would attack him. Iruka's watchful gaze was nothing compared to those expectant glares staring back at him.

"I shouldn't have to," he replied, at long last, watching Iruka as he spoke. The chunin's expression was, unusually, unreadable. "He's my assistant. He's doing his job."

"Is that so?" Iruka marched towards the jonin and snatched back the clipboard, tucking it under one arm. "You have your training time, Kakashi-san. I hope you use it wisely."

"I will," Kakashi answered back.

"And the rest of you," Iruka turned towards his ninken, addressing them with a much softer tone. "Go home...go rest or something, but I don't want to see you guys around here, picking up Kakashi-san's slack, anymore." The authority in Iruka's tone would never work this well on him, Kakashi thought, as he watched the chunin order about his ninken. He found a small grin forming beneath his mask, for some reason. The subtle twitch in Iruka's brow and the angry quiver in the younger man's lips were very memorable.

Unforgettable.

"Roger that, Iruka!" Guruko beamed, while his brothers climbed languidly to their paws. Each scampered by Iruka, one last time, planting a lick against the palm of his hand. Guruko was the last to leave, circling around him. "I'll make sure to let the others know."

"Thanks," Iruka smiled weakly. The golden dog brushed up against Iruka's legs, left a few licks of his own on Iruka's hands, before following behind the rest of the pack.

"Mm..." Kakashi frowned, watching the door click close behind his ninken. "Interesting."

"What's interesting?"

Kakashi stepped forward, with his hands in his pockets. "Apparently, my ninken are trapped in a genjutsu that makes me invisible," he shoved his face in front of Iruka's, "and you their owner. They say goodbye to you and ignore me."

Iruka looked to the ceiling and back again as the close proximity caused a new flush of red to spread across his face.

"Do you have a problem with that, Kakashi-san?"

"Nope," Kakashi beamed. "None at all."

"Good," Iruka said.

They watched each other. Kakashi monitored the unwarranted uncertainty in Iruka's eyes. What did the chunin expect him to do that he hadn't already done? He'd given his very valid reasons for being absent the last few days, including a crippled old woman, a collapsing bridge, and a riot in the marketplace. Whatever business Kakashi avoided had been taken cared of...by Iruka, no doubt. With Iruka having called in a substitute for the entire week, there wasn't a situation or mound of paperwork that called for Kakashi's attention. Despite the appearance of negligence, Kakashi was keeping track of things.

He simply would rather lie about Iruka's couch with a cup of tea on the coffee table and a good novel in his hands.

Iruka did not share the same sentiment.

"You can watch me all day, Iruka-sensei, but I can guarantee you that I have no other tricks up my sleeves."

"I'm supposed to believe that?" Iruka scoffed, cocking his waist.

"Don't you trust me?" Kakashi smiled.

"You make it difficult to trust you, Kakashi-san." Iruka said, looking away.

"I'm your Hokage, Iruka-sensei. You should always trust your Hokage."

"It depends on the Hokage."

"I'm also your friend." Iruka turned back, a look of alarm on his face, and an indescribable feeling overtook Kakashi. "Don't friends trust one another?" he asked, despite himself. It'd been a week since Take put such a fleeting notion into his mind, though… Kakashi had always had more comrades than he could count, all of whom shared the pleasures and pain of shinobi life, but very few friends. Gai could be considered a friend, as well a Yamato, but Iruka...

"KAKASHI!"

The low-pitch voice roared throughout the entire building, when a pug pushed the door open and rushed into the room. Pakkun raced passed Kakashi and Iruka's feet and hopped on Kakashi's desk.

"Mm, what was that?" Kakashi asked, his gaze wandering.

"No time! No time!" Pakkun grouched out.

"No time for what?" Iruka asked.

Pakkun shuddered, offering the two a warning stare. "Brace yourself—"

"Hatake Kakashi! You insubordinate fool!" Mitokado yelled, bursting through the door. Iruka took a few steps back, but Kakashi remained still, watching the elderly man brandish an accusing finger in his face. "You can't do this!"

"Elder Mitokado, whatever it is you're accusing me of having done, it's obvious that I can do it, considering that I did," Kakashi said, while Iruka's horror played out in his peripheral vision.

Mitokado's elderly form shook with fury. "You cannot do this!"

"Mitokado-san," Iruka bowed. "What's going on?" he asked, puzzlement on his face. "What is it you are accusing the Hokage-sama of having done?"

"Umino, am I right?" Mitokado scoffed.

"Y-yes," Iruka frowned.

Mitokado closed his eyes and shook his head. "This does not concern you."

Kakashi's piercing silver stare narrowed in on the elder.

"This matter concerns the Hokage's credibility, not the curiosity of some based chunin. You are dismissed!"

"Iruka-sensei isn't going anywhere," Kakashi said.

"This is between you and the Council, Hatake—"

"No. You involved Iruka-sensei when you insulted him. Now, what do you want?" His voice rang lethally low. He could still see Iruka, but the look of horror had changed to trepidation, or was that...fear? "I said, what do you want, Mitokado?" he asked again, as the elder choked for words.

He appeared uncertain, and his anger had greatly receded. Mitokado's gaze shifted uneasily between Kakashi and Iruka, before settling on the perturbed chunin. "My apologies, Umino-sensei," he said tightly and without an accompanying bow.

"You still haven't said why you're here, Elder Mitokado," Kakashi broke in, quickly growing annoyed, irritated by Mitokado's very presence. He was initially humored by the elder's anger, but now Kakashi couldn't help the sudden detestation flooding through his veins. He'd never cared all that much for the high council, of its members in particular, but the way Mitokado addressed Iruka made him burn with unexpected loathing.

"Right..." Mitokado ripped his glasses off of his face, wiped them on the end of his sleeve, before pushing them back up the bridge of his nose. "Hatake-san, as the Hokage, you are entitled to a variety of privileges and rights, but one thing you are not allowed to do is undermine the established law and order of this village!"

"I don't believe I have," Kakashi shrugged.

"Is that so?" Mitokado snapped heatedly, but he kept his rage well-reserved while underneath Kakashi's piercing one-eyed gaze. "Don't believe for one second we wouldn't find out you had five well-trained, perfectly able guards removed from Ward 10!"

"Alright...then I won't believe that," Kakashi drawled.

"You petulant, little—"

"You told me not to believe. That hardly makes me—"

"I will not stand for this! The council has spoken, and you will abide by—"

"Apparently, my actions exist free of the council's influence. It's been working for me, so far—"

"Kakashi!" Mitokado hissed, "You cannot do something like this without the Council's knowledge."

"Why not?" Kakashi asked, incredulity beneath his mask.

Mitokado's aging frame racked with frustration. "As you are aware, Ward 10 houses only our most formidable criminals."

"So?"

"The guards that are placed within that ward are skilled in dealing with high-level criminals!"

"What's five, here or there, in a village filled with skilled shinobi ready and willing to take their place—?"

"Do not play games with me, Hatake-san!" Mitokado spat out. "This is a serious matter that calls for serious explanation and holds serious repercussion—"

"With all due respect, Mitokado-san," Kakashi hummed, strolling forward. "There isn't much you can do to me, in terms of repercussion. I am the Hokage, after all." The jonin stopped, towering over the much older man. His face went void of all emotion, except well-concealed disdain. "That I replaced five guards from Ward 10 was no big secret. Anyone who cared to read the logs and transfer reports could clearly see my decree. You are capable of such readings, yes? Furthermore, I believe myself quite capable of replacing five specialty jonins with five jonins of the same status. Given my track record, I feel you can afford me that much confidence. Yes?"

"This isn't about that and you know it," Mitokado bellowed, his voice growing dry.

Kakashi cocked his head. "Mm...I should be telling you that."

Mitokado stared Iruka a quick and nervous side glance. "Hatake-san, do no—"

"Since my actions do not call for any real reason and, therefore, no real repercussion, I can only assume that you and the council are bothered for another reason that goes beyond replacing just a few guards. Given the state of things and, believe me," Kakashi pushed forward, forcing Mitokado to step back, "I do know the state of things, such a reason does not stand on a principle of professional integrity but on one intriguingly more...sinister."

"Hatake, that is enou—"

"Maa, are you being sinister, Elder Mitokado?"

Mitokado's lips grew thin, refusing to answer, and Kakashi leaned back, his weight hunched in his shoulders. His low, mocking voice resonated throughout the office, seemingly pleasant. But of course, it was anything but pleasant, as his eye dared Mitokado with a murderous gleam unbeknownst to himself.

"They were trained guards, Hatake-san," Mitokado repeated, growling. "They were specific to that ward."

"I'm sure they were," Kakashi stated airily. "They were rather dedicated to their duties. Paid specific care to particular prisoners, didn't they?"

Mitokado's mouth snapped shut, but he continued to glare at the Hokage. "What is this, Kakashi, a need to prove your authority? Rebellion?" he chuckled lowly. "I've known you as a young man capable of many outrageous feats, but I expected more honor and respect from you, for the ways of Konohagakure. I wonder, what would your father say?"

Kakashi frowned, his brow pinched, and the dark, satisfied grin on Mitokado's face grew.

"Mitokado-san," Kakashi heard a soft voice intrude on his and Mitokado's silent war, "I think Kakashi-sama's father…the White Fang would say that his son was doing the right thing." Kakashi's eye flew in Iruka's direction—even the Sharingan, as it spun madly beneath his eye-patch. He couldn't take his eyes off the chunin and his hesitant yet reassuring gaze. He'd never seen the chunin so certain of his words. Iruka had never met his father, so such knowledge of his opinion puzzled Kakashi. He couldn't understand why Iruka was so sure of his words. Why was Iruka so sure?

And why did it help, in some small way, to hear Iruka say such a thing with such confidence? The chunin beside him looked to Mitokado and, eventually, Kakashi turned back, a renewed sense of indifference in his demeanor.

Mitokado was staring at Iruka, again, in a way Kakashi didn't very much appreciate.

"If you have something to say to Iruka-sensei then say it. Staring is rude. I'm sure you're aware of that."

Elder Mitokado glanced briefly towards Kakashi, but his unrelenting glare remained fixed on Iruka. The chunin quickly grew uneasy beneath his cold gaze but never relented his own stare. "I would advise you, Kakashi-sama, to refrain from leaving your summons in front of my offices. If I find one of them again, I'll have the lot of them sent to a civilian pound." With that Mitokado turned on his heels, threw open Kakashi's door, and slammed it shut behind him.

"...What a jerk."

Kakashi and Iruka turned around, where Pakkun sat scratching behind an ear with an outstretched leg. Kakashi nodded in agreement, watching the pug and ignoring the way Iruka's eyes fixated on him.

"You should defend yourself more often. It makes you appear less weak," Kakashi spoke, strolling over to his desk. He could feel Iruka following close behind him.

"Oh yeah—that's the spot," Pakkun said pleasantly, as Kakashi scratched behind his other ear. Still, Iruka stood at his side, staring at him.

"That staring is rude rule is universal, Iruka-sensei."

"Huh? Wha—you..." Iruka breathed, still gawking.

"Maa, what is it, Iruka-sensei?" Kakashi asked. "Is there something on my mask?"

"Mm," Iruka mumbled, shaking his head. "You...you said—"

"What did I say?"

Iruka exhaled deeply, his shoulders rising and slumping to the tempo of his breathing. "You said the other day; a week ago, you said that it didn't change anything." Kakashi made sure Pakkun's wagging tail was out of the way before seating himself against the edge of his desk. "You told me nothing would change!"

"Nothing has changed," Kakashi stated, still avoiding Iruka's wide-eyed stare. "There were five guards in Ward 10, and there are still five guards in Ward 10. No more, no less. Like I said, what's another five? It's still the same duties for the same criminals; thus, the same brutal mentality."

"But you removed five guards and replaced them with those of your choosing," Iruka stated slowly, stunned. Kakashi cringed, his head rolling back. "This whole time...is that what you've been doing?"

Kakashi reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose, but said nothing.

Iruka chuckled in a sad, depressing way. "You weren't always just sitting around, avoiding your duties… You were enlisting new prison guards."

Kakashi glared at the chunin, his brow arched. "Wrong. I was lounging about, doing nothing but reading my Icha Icha novels. Sometimes, I'd go by the Academy and read a few chapters to your students, Iruka-sensei."

"You would rather I believe you were being lewd and irresponsible than admit that, on some level, you care."

"No. I don't care," Kakashi growled.

"Who did you choose?" Iruka asked, ignoring what he felt was the jonin's blatant denial.

Kakashi frowned, searching Iruka's brown eyes for that genuine curiosity. "I chose subordinates of mine, from my Anbu days," he said slowly. "Men and women that I know are loyal to me and will respect their position, no matter the prisoner."

Iruka nodded in understanding.

"Iruka-sensei, he'll come to no harm under their watch."

"I know," Iruka replied, the brightest, fullest grin adorning his features. Even with a small frown and eyes muddled with emotion, the chunin seemed to glow. It was significantly different from those tired glares and frustrated sighs. He was beaming, and Kakashi found that watching Iruka in such a state of happiness was just as satisfying as all those murderous glares and mind-numbing rants. "Thank you, Kakashi."

Iruka forgot to add the honorific to his name, he was so elated.

Pakkun finished scratching behind his ear when he realized that Kakashi had done the same. He realized that the jonin's attention was focused solely on the chunin before him. Curious, the pug looked around Kakashi's figure and saw the happiest of smiles on Iruka's face. Pakkun backed away slowly, a smirk snaking it's way across his mouth. When he was a good distance away from the two, he pounced.

"Sorry about that!" Pakkun grumbled out, charging his human. His head-on collision pushed the jonin off the edge of the desk and forced Kakashi to the floor. Pakkun choked on his own sinister chuckle and ingenious success, having suspected that Iruka would not react fast enough to step away.

"Oi!" Kakashi shouted, feeling his weight collapse against his feet. He stumbled forward, just enough to throw him off-balance. It worried him to know that his thoughts had taken him so far away from reality as to diminish the speed of his reactions. He turned back to glare at the pug, but Pakkun was too occupied with coughing, for some reason, to play witness to Kakashi's annoyance. He would have made Pakkun rue the day he met him, had he fallen. Instead, Kakashi's hands had reached out, gripping cotton fabric and lean muscle.

It was then that he realized it was Iruka's arms, his body that had stopped him from falling.

Iruka appeared as stunned as Kakashi felt, standing stark still in his hands. Kakashi felt a pulse run through Iruka's body, his rapid breathing against his mask, and his heated gaze staring back at him. He was startled, a reaction Kakashi wasn't surprised to see from Iruka.

"Kakashi-sama!" There was a hurried knock, but the door flew open anyway, revealing a rather rattled tokubetsu jonin. Iruka's eyes snapped towards the door, but Kakashi remained relatively undisturbed. "Eh…?" he paused, staring at his Hokage and the Academy sensei. "My apologies, Hokage-sama. Iruka-sensei." He bowed. "This is pretty urgent, but I can wait outside..."

"What is it, Aoba?" Kakashi asked, his grip on Iruka firm.

Aoba shot up, his sunglasses falling back against his eyes. "Yamanaka-san and Morino-san request your presence in one of the lab chambers."

"Which chamber?" Kakashi asked, his hands gliding down Iruka's arms.

"The...lower chamber," Aoba said slowly.

Kakashi nodded, releasing Iruka. With his balance regained, he shoved his hands back into his pockets. "Ne, Iruka-sensei."

"Y-yes...?"

"Looks like there is some business in need of my attendance, after all." He smiled. "Stay here with Pakkun. I'll be right back."

Iruka watched him go, lifting his clipboard into view. "I'm your assistant. I should come with you."

"No."

Kakashi took hold of Iruka's clipboard and placed it on his desk. He could feel the chunin's eyes on him again, as well as his clumsy pug of a ninken. The jonin ignored them both, nodding toward Aoba.

"Do you have any idea what this is about?" Kakashi hummed, meeting his fellow jonin by the door.

Aoba paused, uncertain on how to respond. "I know, Kakashi-sama. I didn't think you wouldn't know..."

"I do know," Kakashi said. "I just wanted to know if you did." Kakashi leaned forward, with his hand pressed against the door. "Tell Yamanaka-san and Morino-san that I'll be there in a moment."

"Yes, sir," Aoba nodded, giving another short bow. Kakashi watched him sprint down the hall, deducing that the matter at hand could possibly be quite urgent. He gave Iruka and Pakkun one more glance, a cheerful, one-eyed grin.

"I'll be back."

The door snapped shut behind him, leaving one man and one dog staring at mere space.

Pakkun circled around, stomping his paws against the top of the desk. His face was set in a permanent scowl, staring at where his human once stood. His low growling and paw stomping caught Iruka's attention.

"What's wrong, Pakkun?" Iruka asked.

The pug stopped, pouting. "Kakashi is an idiot."

"Why do you say that?"

Pakkun shook his head.

"Never mind, youngster." He reached out with one leg, inciting Iruka to come forward. The ninken watched Iruka's helplessly puzzled glance turn into another warm smile. When he felt a few fingers brush against the top of his head and glide up and down the coat of fur on his back, Pakkun closed his eyes and beamed. "The important thing is you're not an idiot, and that's all that matters."

"I'm glad you think so," Iruka chuckled, rubbing all the small ninken's woes away. "Pakkun?"

"Yes, Iruka?"

The chunin sensei gave him a warning stare. "No more stake outs."

"Heh," Pakkun breathed, exposing his belly to those talented hands. "Of course, of course."

 

* * *

 

"Here." Iyashi pulled back the white sheet. Kakashi stepped forward, with Ibiki and Aoba, now captain of the Intelligence Division, at his side. There, displayed before them, lay Tsunade's cold, rigid corpse on a slab of metal. She was draped in the garbs of a deceased leader, with thick royal purple robes and everlasting flowers adorning her colorless face. "We did everything we could to work around the ceremonial dressings."

"It's fine," Aoba said from Kakashi's left, nodding. "It's difficult to preserve the respect of their death and examine a Hokage's body at the same time, but you've done all you can, Iyashi-san."

"Thank you, Yamashiro-san," Iyashi replied, bowing from the other side of the table. He turned toward Kakashi. "Kakashi-sama."

"Mm?" Kakashi looked up, his attention too drawn by Tsunade's appearance. He'd seen hundreds of deaths, and more dead bodies than could be deemed healthy for any one human being. Tsunade-sama was not the first Hokage he'd seen dead, still wearing their funeral attire long after the initial mourning period.

"Have you nothing to say, Kakashi?" Ibiki asked coyly, from his right. "Words of respect or thoughts regarding the Godaime…?"

Kakashi went back to watching the lifelessness displayed before him. "Tsunade-sama looks...serene." Kakashi truly believed that she did. Despite her tightened features, the true age of her face, and the gray-blonde hair hoisted up in a dressed bun above her head, Kakashi had never seen the woman look so peaceful in all the years he'd ever known her. "What was found after the autopsy?" he asked out loud, glancing at Iyashi. The medic-nin sighed, his eyes wide with puzzlement.

"We found ourselves in need of another autopsy," he answered. "Further examination showed a foreign strand of biochemical code that went undetected until just a few days ago. Had it been missing, we would have never known, but that Tsunade's chronological aging had yet to take place, we felt obligated to keep her body open for examination."

"Examining what exactly?" Kakashi asked.

"The decaying process," Iyashi said, eyeing the three men. "Tsunade-sama was not decaying, indicating that a particular protein in her genetic make-up was still functioning, as if Tsunade-sama hadn't died at all."

"That's not possible," Kakashi muttered, staring at Tsunade's face. "This protein..."

"Is really a pathogen acting as an enzyme that feeds off its human host long after life."

"A virus."

"Yes, Kakashi-sama," Iyashi nodded. "It was ingested as a capsule, in a fashion commonly used for dissolving drugs." Iyashi walked over to one of the counters, returning with a tall green glass bottle in hand. "We found the same agent chemical in this, hidden beneath Tsunade-sama's desk."

"That's Tsunade's sake bottle," Kakashi said, his brow furrowed. He glanced at Iyashi, the older man's grave stare confirming what he now knew to be the truth. "Tsunade didn't die a natural death. Someone poisoned her."

"Yes, Kakashi-sama."

Kakashi's gaze narrowed, staring Aoba, Ibiki, and Iyashi down in frustration. "You chose to wait until now to tell me this."

"No," Ibiki cut in. "The medic team assigned to Tsunade's case wanted to be absolutely sure, to avoid unnecessary scandal. How safe would the village feel knowing that even the Hokage isn't safe from sabotage?"

"Do we know who the culprit is?"

"Not yet," Aoba answered. "I extracted record of Tsunade-sama's movements and whereabouts, all within a span of the last four months. At no point did she appear to think her life was in jeopardy or that someone was out to get her."

"This is war, Aoba-san," Kakashi said. "I would be more worried to find that, as the Hokage, Tsunade wasn't paranoid, in the pursuit of preserving her own life."

"My team found no evidence that Tsunade-sama was aware of her assailant," Aoba finished firmly, forcing Kakashi to relent. A thought-filled silence overcame them, before Iyashi drew their attention once more.

"I was able to date the poison's presence to just a few days before Tsunade-sama's death. Whoever did this has an expert grasp of poisonous chemicals that are undetectable in the blood system. Even that this poison continued to thrive, two weeks after Tsunade-sama's death—"

"He planned it that way." Kakashi paused, a gloved hand hovering over Tsunade's body. He ignored those wide-eyed stares, focusing solely on his sannin predecessor. "That the poison could go undetected during the days before Tsunade's death did not guarantee its success. He needed to stay, to ensure its effectiveness." Kakashi fixed Iyashi a hard stare. "Two weeks would give him enough time to get away from the village and disappear entirely."

"I take it you know who this culprit is, Kakashi," Ibiki said, his voice urging Kakashi to tell him who. Kakashi remained silent, however.

He turned, a blank stare on his face.

"I have a good idea. Iyashi-san."

"Yes, sir."

"You can cover Tsunade's body now."

"Of course," Iyashi agreed, pulling the sheet back over the blonde woman's lifeless form. Kakashi gave Tsunade one last look, until only his memories of her were left at his disposal.

"Good work." Kakashi nodded towards Iyashi, walking away.

He sensed rather than saw Ibiki and Aoba follow after him. It was annoying, to say the least, to have others constantly flanking his sides. Now, everywhere he went, the Rokudaime felt the lingering presence of Anbu guards following his every step. At his office, they were there. Here, draped by expert shinobi such as Ibiki and Aoba, they surrounded the area, seemingly undetected. When he went to the Academy, they were there. Only at Iruka's apartment did he not feel their presence, which was a wonder Kakashi cared little for. But he was grateful, knowing there was one place, at least, where his whereabouts weren't being tracked.

He couldn't help but think about all those years spent completing S-class missions alone, with no one but himself to lead.

"Tsunade's assassination was a preliminary, do you think?" Aoba asked.

"Every new Hokage must oversee and observe the remains of the last Hokage," Ibiki stated. "The Godaime's murder was simply a tragic coincidence. I'll have two Anbu teams search the outskirts of the village."

Kakashi waved the idea off, turning. "Don't bother. He's gone," he muttered, not at all compelled to explain who "he" was. "Where's the prisoner?"

"This way, Kakashi-sama," Aoba replied, turning a corner.

The two taller men took the lead, guiding Kakashi before an enclosed room, where only a bar window on a chamber door gave him insight on what was inside. He saw a man sitting on the dank and gritty ground, before Aoba stepped in front of the door.

"When he said he wanted to make a deal, we extracted his knowledge using Inoichi-sama's scroll technique to gather whether he would be honest," Aoba explained, unlocking the door. It creaked open, crying to be used more often.

"What's the verdict?" Kakashi asked.

"His mind is shrouded in a self-induced, deep-rooted disillusionment jutsu, so there is no way of getting a clear account of the truth by force."

Kakashi nodded, his hand taking hold of the rusty metal handle.

Ibiki and Aoba stood back but Kakashi remained by the door, staring down at the imprisoned man. The prisoner's body appeared as worn as the prison clothes on his back, but the leer on his face told Kakashi of a man in control of his person. A man who had willingly pledged himself to Madara's agenda.

"While we were eliminating Madara's followers, he pleaded out, made a deal, the only one of Madara's followers that did." Ibiki came forward. "In exchange, he'll tell us the information Yamashiro-san's team couldn't extract: dates, locations, whereabouts, numbers..."

"Mm."

"He says he'll only talk to the Hokage, however," Ibiki finished.

Kakashi nodded, watching the man as he pulled against his chains. "What's the deal?"

"Life imprisonment, but it's better than death." Kakashi didn't know whether he could agree with that belief. Given the bitter disappointment adorning Ibiki's face, the scarred man would rather see the prisoner dead than live out a life in prison. Kakashi stepped forward but felt a large hand grace his shoulder, holding him back. "Be careful, Kakashi. This may be a trap."

"I am aware of that," Kakashi muttered over his shoulder. Knowing Madara, his kind, this follower could easily have been booby-trapped to go off at a particular moment. Kakashi had seen too many walking time bombs to fall for such an asinine trick. "Ibiki-san. Aoba-san."

"Sir?"

"What is it?"

Kakashi looked between the two. "I'm closing the door. Wait out here."

Kakashi didn't wait for their responses, passing the threshold and closing the door despite any objections the two might have wanted to express. If anyone knew how capable he was to handle the situation, it was Morino Ibiki and Yamashiro Aoba. Likewise, were he in any danger here, the two would have his back in an instant. Kakashi watched the prisoner fight to keep his own head up. He would find no threat here.

"You wanted to talk?"

He was met by a long silence.

"Yes," at last, he heard the man growl out a response. "Hatake Kakashi: the Leaf's new leader. Still alive but not for long."

"I take it there's some forewarning in those words," Kakashi sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "This is your life on the line, not mine. You can keep talking in riddles, or you can give us the information we want. That way your life will be spared, which is a fate that can't be said about your comrades."

"You had them murdered," the prisoner seethed, lifting his head.

Kakashi watched those bloodshot red eyes, addressing the prisoner with little regard. "Yes, and they died with dignity. You, however, bargained to keep your life by telling us what we want to know."

"It's too late," the prisoner chuckled hoarsely.

"It's not too late," Kakashi drawled, his eye narrowed. "You're still alive. But if you'd like to test my patience, I can easily put you back on the chopping block."

"I killed your last Hokage!" the man spat. "What makes you think I won't do the same to you?"

"You didn't kill the Godaime," Kakashi said, his voice low. An image of Tsunade, covered in silk purples and floral arrangements, flashed before his burning glare. "I suspect that you, as I do, know who did kill the Godaime. I want information on his whereabouts, as well."

"NO! NO! NO!" the prisoner cried in pain, a scream that echoed throughout the dingy room, contrasting sickeningly with the broad smile across his face. "We will have our justice, and the tyrant Leaf village will fall! It's too late for you... It's too late!"

It happened in a flash. The prisoner had one hand ripped from the wall, and his shackled arm fell to his side. Just as Kakashi rushed forward, the tale-told marks of a jutsu snaked its away down the man's exposed skin. Black lines and torn skin, reminiscent to the markings seen on Orochimaru's subjects, were embedded on the man's flesh. Then the jonin heard crackling and knew that it was time to go.

Kakashi caught a flash of the explosive tags growing from the prisoner's skin, before he rushed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

"Get away!" he yelled out to Ibiki and Aoba who, instead, grabbed him and pulled him away from the door. Kakashi felt the heat at the tip of his fingers; felt it singe strands of his hair, before the entire room shook with explosions. The building rumbled but remained standing, craftily reinforced the day Yamato was forced to rebuild its remains from the last war.

The three fell against the wall farthest from the room, as the last few bursts of fire blew stone and steel, leaving nothing but a gaping chasm filled with heavy smoke.

"Kakashi, I told you to watch out!" Ibiki growled.

"I told you to get away," Kakashi shot back. "We're even now."

In a blink of an eye, those same Anbu guards assigned by the Council to follow his every waking move appeared all over the explosion sight like a swarm of flies.

"Did you manage to gain any information?" Aoba heaved out, cringing at the sight before him. Kakashi said nothing, which was as much an answer as any. He climbed to his feet, just as the others had, staring at that gaping hole now serving as their only lead's death tomb. "Damn it!" Aoba seethed, kicking the rubble at his feet.

Kakashi rubbed a hand over his chin, sighing.

"Kakashi, I'm sending out teams," Ibiki said, defiantly. "If not to catch the culprit then to ensure we find another bastard like this one willing to spill everything they know!"

"Do it, if you must." Kakashi replied, his eyes straining to see past the smoke and rubble.

"Is that all you have to say?" Ibiki asked.

Kakashi gave it a moment's thought...sending teams out made a lot more sense now. Given the lack of manpower and the lack of evidence, sending two teams out would have truly been a waste of time. But that, however, was before one of Madara's followers decided to plan this ruse and blow a hole through his building.

Kakashi said nothing on the matter, looking between Ibiki and Aoba with a half-lidded stare.

"Today's definitely gotten a lot less boring."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed ^_^


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Umino Iruka, as lived in the reign of the Rokudaime of the Hidden Leaf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh boy... Sorry this took so long. Things started piling up, so I had to take care of business first. Also, I get into these bouts of despair where I contemplate the pointlessness of my own existence, like right now, which is the only reason I'm still up right now (it's 12:40am where I am). On the plus side, the span of time it's taken me to upload this chapter allowed me to flesh out what remains of this story (which is a definitive 25 chapters more, so, 50 chapters in total). If I go over that, by some strange fluke, please shoot me in the face.

**10:00**

 

Iruka had never seen his class so tame, so...quiet. He certainly had never seen them so obedient in front of a substitute instructor before. Kakashi-san's chaotic stint was not a valid example, though the occurrence his mind did consider.

No, he thought, shaking his head, as memories of bad behavior carved a smile out of him. He thought of all those substitutes he couldn't apologize enough to and still looked on with an affectionate grin. He could see from here, all of them concentrating on their in-class assignments. Though reminded of their deviousness, the chunin couldn't help but think they were absolutely perfect.

His smile grew weak when he realized he'd hadn't seen his absolutely perfect students for some time, and he held his hand still against the classroom door, wanting more than anything to teach his students again.

Iruka wasn't sure who was teaching his class now. When he applied for a leave of absence, the school board chose a number of substitutes willing to take his place. Iruka didn't necessarily know who these people were but knew enough substitutes were hired to cover the time he'd taken leave. He could breathe a sigh of relief, knowing he'd assigned enough work to keep his students occupied and the substitute's job relatively task-free.

"Sir, when will we get a break?" Iruka heard Tsuki ask. He rolled his eyes and chuckled, knowing only Tsuki would sound so eager to get out of doing work.

"You keep asking this and I keep giving you the same answer. When all of you are finished with the assignment, you can have your break," was the reply. Iruka believed he knew that worn out voice.

"Man...! Iruka-sensei would have let us out ages ago!"

"Well, I know that's a lie. I happen to be a very good friend of Iruka-sensei's, and I know for a fact that he's much too anal to let you all out before you've finished an assignment."

Iruka pushed the door open, turning a small gap into a gaping doorway. "What's that supposed to mean?" he scowled, glaring at the other man.

"Iruka!" Izumo gaped.

"Iruka-sensei!" The children smiled, their faces brightening. Iruka smiled as well, glad to see his students for the first time in days.

"Hello, everyone," he chuckled, waving. A few students had already jumped out of their seats to greet him, especially a very animated Tsuki, but Iruka pushed his hand into the air to stop them. "No, no...Finish your assignment first. Don't you want your break?"

Iruka nearly fell over himself with laughter at how quick his students were to hop back into their seats. Tsuki was the worst, gripping his paper with both hands and shaking it with determination. He fixed the redhead a fond smile, before his gaze scanned the room, making sure everyone was occupied with their work. He felt an instant surge of shock escape him. There, at the back, studying his work sat Take. The chunin couldn't believe his eyes, as the silver haired boy usually never came to school if Iruka wasn't there.

He walked over to where Izumo stood leaning against the chalkboard. "Iruka," Izumo sighed. "What brings you back to the jungle?"

Iruka crossed his arms and fixed Izumo with a long, hard stare. "I don't know—you tell me. I'm so predictably anal that I couldn't possibly leave my students in the care of another. I have to make sure everything's going as planned." He frowned.

"Hey, I didn't say all that," Izumo argued, laughing nervously.

Iruka looked to his students, especially the small boy at the top. "I hope you're not going around talking about me to my students."

"I wouldn't do that," Izumo breathed, staring back at Iruka's class. "Besides, they seem to know quite a lot about you, already."

"You haven't been the substitute all this time, have you?"

"No," Izumo shook his head, the bangs over his eye temporarily falling out of place, "just the last couple of days," he answered. "Considering our obligation to you and Hokage-sama, I thought Kotetsu and I should volunteer if you ever needed a substitute."

"What did Kotetsu say?" Iruka asked, although he had a pretty good idea of what his other friend might have said. After all, the spiky haired man remained nowhere to be found.

"The moment I said "substitute" and "Academy students", Kotetsu made his name first priority for gate shifts," Izumo scowled.

"That definitely sounds like Kotetsu," Iruka laughed heartily. "Regardless, I'm grateful to you guys, for helping me out like this."

"No problem," Izumo said, waving off his gratitude. "I'm just glad to be of some help. We're sure the Hokage keeps you pretty busy."

"Yes, he does," Iruka said hesitantly, watching Izumo with great suspicion. "He's a handful."

"I bet."

"His antics keep me up at night."

"I'm not surprised."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Iruka growled, giving his class a quick glance to make sure their attention was taken by the assignment.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Izumo shrugged. "Iruka, I don't think you're all that upset."

"I am!" Iruka hissed. "Because of him, I was forced to take a leave of absence. I miss my class." Admitting it out loud only made the truth more saddening for the chunin sensei. He turned to his class again, watching their studious faces twist with thoughts, wishing he could have been here to walk them through the lesson. Doing so might have eased the difficulty of their work. "Making sure Kakashi-sama does what he's supposed to do is taking away the time I have with my students."

"Iruka," Izumo sighed, watching his friend stew in frustration. "Kakashi-sama is an adult. Tell him you're not going to be there, and he'd take care of his own duties. The only reason he slacks off is because he knows he has you to pick up the pieces."

"You think so?"

"I know so," Izumo insisted. "You're his security blanket. Take that away and he'll be forced to get over himself."

Iruka fell silent, considering Izumo's words.

"In any case," Izumo continued, stretching his arms and eyeing his friend whimsically, "you enjoy having to fix everything for him. You claim to be fed up with the Hokage, but I've never seen you happier than when you are with him. Kotetsu says you practically glow."

"I'm not some smitten, doe-eyed, teenage admirer," Iruka scowled, the blush on his face shedding light on his embarrassment. "I am nothing but professional."

"So you keep telling yourself," Izumo said despairingly, rolling his eyes. "Don't you feel anything?"

"Anything of what?"

"Never mind," Izumo muttered, shaking his head. "Kotetsu says that things like this shouldn't be forced."

"Things like what?"

Izumo stared his friend down with some semblance of disappointment. "I expect this much obliviousness from the Hokage but not from you, Iruka." The chunin looked away, as it proved difficult for him to ever have a bad word to say about his flush-faced friend. A lot of shinobi often disregarded Iruka's optimism and politeness as ignorance and naivety, but Izumo knew better. Iruka was not as daft as people thought he was—as daft as he was being now.

"...What would you have of me," Iruka said, staring off with a pitiful smile on his face, "to obsess over things that can never be?" Izumo's eyes widened as Iruka looked back, the sadness in his voice betraying the smile on his face.

"I'm done!" Tsuki raced down the rows of tables and slammed his sheet against Iruka's desk, eyeing the two chunin with crazed accomplishment. Iruka laughed, but Izumo quickly picked it up, eyeing it with suspicion. "I completed the whole thing, so can I go now?"

True to the boy's word, the entire worksheet had been completed in answers varying between large print and tiny scribbles. Still, the substitute looked it over, humming to himself. "I doubt any of these answers are right."

"Probably not," Iruka answered back, playfully knocking the side of Tsuki's head.

"Geez," Tsuki whined, rubbing his head, but he smiled all the same.

"You heard Izumo-san. When everyone has completed the assignment, you can leave. You're not special."

"Of course I am!" Tsuki beamed. "Besides, if no one else is smart enough to finish the assignment, than that's their problem," he huffed, turning away.

Iruka looked to Izumo, amused, because he'd never seen such an irritated scowl on his friend's face. "Something tells me this is your problem, too," he retaliated, waving Tsuki's work in the air.

Soon enough, more and more students walked down from their seats, forming a pile of completed work on top of Iruka's desk. Instead of returning to their desks, the children eagerly grouped themselves around him.

"Iruka-sensei!"

"Where have you been?"

"Are you coming back to teach us today?"

"No, no," he laughed, rubbing his scar. "I'm just here for a visit."

"Are you coming back to us?"

"Of course."

"When?"

Iruka spent hours lying in bed, absently petting the heads and rubbing the bellies of sleeping ninken, contemplating that very same question. He came up with the same answer time and again, even if the consequences left him with even less sleep. "I should be back by next week."

"You promise?" Tsuki asked, staring up at him.

Iruka opened his mouth but nothing came out at first. "I promise, Tsuki."

"Alright, you guys," Izumo intervened, breaking up the crowd of students. "You wanted your break so go have it. We'll resume class in thirty minutes." The students gave their farewells to Iruka before racing out the door, and he watched them go with great pride. Then he jumped in alarm but instantly settled his shock with a smile when eager arms wrapped around his waist. Iruka patted Tsuki's back, and the redheaded boy's hold only tightened.

"Go take your break. I'm sure you've earned it." Iruka turned to Izumo, smirking. "He has earned it, yes?"

"With all the strain he's put into thinking in the last couple of days?" Izumo shrugged. "I think he's earned it."

Tsuki pulled away, grinning madly.

"Bye Iruka-sensei! See you later, Izumo-san!" The boy waved them off, and the two chunin watched him race away.

"He's certainly a ball of energy, isn't he?"

Iruka sighed into a grin, knowing Izumo didn't know the half of it. Ten in the morning meant nothing when it came to Yorokobi Tsuki, who refrained from bursting through the Academy doors when he could help it. Tsuki spent the majority of his day bouncing in his seat, waiting for that moment to throw pencil and paper aside to move on to a more exciting venture, like meal time or play.

"What's he still doing here?" Iruka followed Izumo's puzzled gaze to the top of the class, where a lone figure sat in his seat. "Hey, I know your work," he called out to him. "I'm surprised you weren't finished before Tsuki. Hand me your paper and go play."

Izumo approached and reached out, expecting Take to meet him halfway, but Iruka stepped forward, placing a hand on Izumo's arm. "I'll handle this," he said firmly, his eyes fixed on the small boy. He then turned to Izumo, worrying the other man with a sober grin. "Go take your break. You know you're going to need it after teaching this class."

"Yeah," Izumo exhaled, eyeing Iruka skeptically. "I'm going to go see what Kotetsu is up to."

"Sleeping, probably," Iruka joked.

Izumo chuckled, shaking his head. "Probably."

Iruka moved closer to Take, after the distinct 'click' of the classroom door closing signaled Izumo's departure. He walked up the platforms, passing rows of desks and chairs, very aware that Take was watching his every step. Iruka knew the boy's gaze to be unyielding, insinuating, and the chunin couldn't help but feel suspect. It was a feeling most familiar to him, as he often felt his very existence questioned in the same manner by the jonin he now called 'friend'.

Iruka closed his eyes, trying not to think about...that.

When he reopened them, he found himself standing over Take's desk, smiling in the face of a blank stare. "I'm glad to see you've been attending classes more often, but you don't have to stay here. Go outside and play with your peers."

Iruka could only suggest it, but the likelihood of Take playing with the other students was very slim. In all his years working at the Academy, Iruka had never seen a student more opposed to playing with other students than Take.

'Well, except Sasuke,' Iruka thought, frowning. He still hoped to see something of a smile on the boy's face before he went racing off to join the other children which, most likely, would never happen.

Iruka held hope.

Take continued to frown.

"Take..." Iruka sighed, pulling up a chair beside Take's desk. He studied the boy with a warm gaze. "You don't have to play with the other children, but you should go outside and enjoy some fresh air. There's a clear blue sky out there, and it's been sunnier today than any other day this—"

"Iruka-sensei."

"Mm?" Iruka's voice fell, but his small smile remained. The absence of cloudy weather calmed his mind, but it did nothing to ease the stark frown on Take's face. "What is it, Take?"

Take fixed his sight to the floor. "Where have you been?"

"Well..." Iruka gently drummed his fingers against the desk. "I've been working."

"You work here."

"I work a lot of other places, too," Iruka said, his smile faltering. "True, I work at the Academy, but I also work for the missions room and for the Rokudaime."

"Oh," Take said. Iruka looked down as well but didn't see much, only the subtle swinging of Take's legs. They didn't quite reach the floor yet. "...Why haven't you come to see us?"

"I..." Iruka paused, regarding Take carefully. Those magnificent hazel eyes of his were staring at him now, burning into him with utter sadness and making his heart ache. Iruka could not return even the feigned of smiles. "I've been really busy, but I promise to come by soon. I'll cook some breakfast. We can go fishing, have a picnic—"

"We just want to see you," Take interjected.

Iruka blinked, caught off-guard by the boy's glare.

Take looked away again. Iruka smiled. "Alright then," he said. "I'll be there, soon, and we can do whatever you guys want to do."

"You promise?"

"I promise." Take nodded slowly, indicating he believed him, but his unmistakable frown hadn't changed. His idle fingers danced across his worksheet, taking his attention away. "You should join the rest of the class now," Iruka insisted softly. Take didn't respond. It was upsetting, to see Take so far removed, but Iruka should have been used to it by now. The boy's unresponsiveness made it even more of a shock to see him attending class. "If you want," Iruka began, tapping his fingers against Take's worksheet, "I can stay for a while and keep you company here."

"I'd like that," Take said, frowning.

"Mm." Iruka's brow furrowed. "Is there anything that can be done to get you to smile?" he asked. The question made Take smile. "I knew you could do it," Iruka laughed.

"Leave me alone," Take mumbled, trying to fight both a smile and a faint blush.

"I couldn't possibly leave you alone," Iruka hummed playfully, his hand reaching for Take's side. "I'm not your teacher today, so, I can do this!" Take burst with laughter, flailing, trying not to fall out of his seat.

"Stop! Stop tickling," he barely got out, his lungs working for more air.

"What was that? Keep tickling you?" Iruka laughed, growing more persistent.

"No! Stop! Stop tickling!"

"I guess I have no choice then," Iruka breathed, his hand retreating. He had effectively driven laughter from Take's brooding nature, which was all he could ever ask for. "See?" he smiled, pointing at Take's face. "There's a smile."

"I'm not smiling," Take scowled, but his upturned lips betrayed him.

"You smiled and you laughed," Iruka noted. "I know you're capable of both."

"Whatever." Take rolled his eyes. Iruka chuckled, regarding his reclusive student with mirth.

"I bet if you tried, you'd play along with the others quite nicely. You'd be the best at playing shinobi."

"I don't want to play shinobi. I want to be shinobi," Take said.

"Oh," Iruka blinked, taken aback by the determination in Take's voice. "Then I'm glad you're back in school. Whenever there's a substitute, they always tell me how skilled you are. You don't give them any trouble at all."

Take said nothing.

"I had a feeling that what happened last time wasn't your fault." Iruka grimaced to think of that arrogant jonin who spoke so diligently about discipline. He couldn't help but scoff, knowing that if Hatake Kakashi knew anything about discipline he wouldn't have started a fight with a nine-year-old pre-genin in the first place. "The meeting could have waited," he mumbled to himself. "I should have never left. Jonin can be a bit...too eccentric, for a classroom setting. Though, they do make for great specialty instructors."

Iruka shrugged away the thought, smirking.

"Don't worry...It will be a long time before I ask Kakashi-sama to come by again."

"The other substitutes bore me."

"…I'm sorry to hear that." Iruka's face fell. "There's only so many instructors available—"

"Is the Hokage-sama a good shinobi?"

Iruka frowned, troubled by the sudden curiosity. He went to speak but said nothing, fearing what his first answer would be.

"It depends on what you mean by good," he stated slowly. "I mean, the Hokage-sama is a good shinobi, both as a person and as a soldier." Iruka could have slapped himself for saying 'soldier'. It sounded like something Kakashi-san would have said. In fact, he recalled quite clearly, a time the jonin did say that.

"They are no longer your students... Right now...they are my soldiers."

"How good?"

"He's one of Konoha's elite shinobi. One of the greatest of our time. Kakashi-sama was vital to ending the Fourth Shinobi War. He's brilliant," Iruka finished, surprising himself with his own words. Of course, he'd always held such high opinion of Kakashi-san.

"Take, he was vital to ending the war—stopping the violence." The chunin scooted forward, placing a comforting hand against Take's arm. Though Take's frown softened, his upset and frustration remained readily apparent to his chunin sensei.

This sudden curiosity towards the Hokage Iruka didn't quite understand. He could have sworn the boy disliked Kakashi-san, for singling him out in class. Iruka leaned back in another student's seat, reached up, and scratched the bridge of his nose, skittish with apprehension.

“He's capable of much more than what you saw in class the other day."

He caught a deep nod from the boy, Take's head moving with the weight of a boulder.

"What about as a person?"

"What?"

Take leaned away, clasping his hands together. "You said he was a good shinobi, as a person and a soldier. What's he like as a person…Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka felt his brow constrict with uncertainty, still, he hooked the bottom of his chin with an index finger and searched his mind for an appropriate response.

"He's...a good person—a good man." The chunin soon smiled. "He takes pride in what he does and protects the people and the village, because they are important to him. When he had students," Iruka paused, staring pointedly at Take, "he cared about their development. He still cares about them." Iruka saw a slow nod, not truly knowing what information left an impression on Take.

He questioned the legitimacy of his own words as he thought of Naruto, Sasuke, and Kakashi-san's recent neglect of them. It occurred to him then that the Copy Nin had probably managed to somehow, in some way, offend Sakura, too, given the circumstances.

"Why do you ask these things, Take?"

"I was just wondering," Take said, shrugging, but Iruka hummed, suspicious.

"I doubt that." Iruka produced a bitter grin. "What are your motives, Take? Know the enemy?"

"No," Take sulked. "I just can't believe a guy like that can be Hokage."

“What kind of guy do you think Kakashi-sama is?"

Take gave Iruka one of his hardest glares, one the chunin could never take seriously.

"Insane."

"Take!" Iruka could recognize that obnoxiously loud voice in his sleep. He turned and smiled, not at all surprised when Tsuki came bursting through the door. The redheaded boy scanned the room, quick to find Take and ecstatic to see Iruka. "Iruka-sensei!"

"I'm still here, Tsuki. What did you..." the impact of Tsuki's embrace startled him. "Oof!" Iruka coughed out, looking down at Tsuki's head. "I-I said I'll be back next week."

"That's not soon enough," Tsuki pulled away.

"Tch," Take scoffed, crossing his arms. "You're telling me..."

"Take!" Tsuki jumped out again, and the chunin was more than happy to lean back so that the boy could reach his intended target. Tsuki pulled one of Take's arms away from his chest. "Take! Take!"

"What?" Take growled, yanking his arm away.

"What are you doing in here?" Tsuki smiled. "Come on! We're playing tag! If you don't come now, you'll miss the game!"

"I don't care." Take looked away, a faint shade of red creeping onto his face.

"Sure you do," Tsuki insisted, racing around Iruka's chair. He quickly latched onto the younger boy and dragged him out of his seat. "Who doesn't care about tag?"

"I don't!" Take scowled.

Iruka chuckled, watching Tsuki drag Take away. The silver haired boy gave him a look that screamed of disapproval, but at no time did Take pull himself away. Iruka felt obligated to do nothing but smile. It was refreshing, he thought, to see Take interacting with a peer, and he knew Tsuki to be nothing but friendly to Take, which was something he couldn't really claim about many of his other students.

"See you later, Iruka-sensei!" Tsuki waved, reaching for the door. His other arm was fastened around Take's, linking the two together. The look of death on Take's face was priceless, coupled by a dark ruby blush that Iruka only ever saw on himself.

"Enjoy your break," The chunin waved back, watching them leave, certain that the hidden grin on Take's face would last for a while.

 

* * *

 

**13:00**

 

Having found the last bit of space in an already jam-packed storage room, Iruka went about filing papers in the Hokage's office. He sulked, slapping another document against Kakashi-san's desk, still muttering about how he wouldn't file papers he couldn't store. The day had passed into partly cloudy blue skies with the gentlest of breezes swooshing through the open window, and here he was taking care of Kakashi-san's dirty work.

"I guess that's my fault," Iruka sighed to himself, collectively tapping the pages on the tabletop. "I did offer to assist." It was a decision he knew he'd regret in the long-run. "It was my choice." Iruka paused, holding the same file, still, a record of missions assigned and completed last week.

Any business written down on a piece of paper had to be reevaluated by the Missions Board, the Hokage, or, in this case, Iruka, which was an obligation the chunin did not take lightly. Abridged mission reports, merchant transactions, correspondents with other villages, and daily reports continued to fly across the desk, after heavy scrutiny beneath Iruka's gaze.

He worked with measured pace, focused on the task at hand. His morning visit to the Academy invaded his thoughts. The students he couldn't wait to teach again were a pleasant distraction to his work. He picked up another pile of paper, smiling, thinking about the determined misery on Take's face when Tsuki dragged him from the classroom.

"There's hope for you yet, Take," Iruka grinned.

"Is there something amusing?"

Iruka's posture quickly straightened and his head shot up even faster. There, at the double doors, stood Lady Utatane.

"Lady Utatane," Iruka stood from the Hokage's chair and bowed, smiling politely.

"Iruka-sensei, of course," Utatane nodded, carrying a small parcel in her hands. From the looks of it, Iruka deduced it had to be some long-winded form or document for the Hokage. "I recall you plenty of times as an assistance to Hiruzen and Tsunade."

"Yes," Iruka confirmed, nodding out of his bow.

Lady Utatane closed the doors behind her. Her eyes remained narrowed, and her mouth thin-lipped, as she stepped forward. "Pity you didn't hear me come in. I could have been an enemy shinobi, here to kill the Rokudaime."

"My apologies, Lady Utatane." Iruka bowed again, not wanting the elder's stern stare to see the flush of embarrassment on his face. He went about clearing the clutter on Kakashi-san's desk. "I was just...very focused on getting this paperwork done."

"No matter," Lady Utatane voiced. Iruka met her gaze again, as well as the large envelope hovering between them. "Make sure Kakashi receives this."

"Of course," Iruka blinked, staring at the unknown package. "May I ask what this is about, Lady Utatane?" Iruka blushed again, mentally berating himself for even thinking to inquire let alone actually inquiring about business between her and Kakashi-san. It wasn't his place to question an elder. He could only imagine how Elder Mitokado, Lady Utatane's male counterpart, would respond to his curiosity.

'He'd probably tell me to mind my place,' Iruka thought resentfully. Disheartened, he suspected Kakashi-san would do the same, and he expected Lady Utatane to do so as well.

Yet he witnessed a firm smile grace her regal features.

"You may open the contents and read them for yourself, Iruka-sensei, but I would like some reassurance that Kakashi will receive this dispatch as well."

"Yes, Lady Utatane," Iruka bowed again, taking the envelope with both hands. "This dispatch will be received by the Hokage-sama."

"Good." Lady Utatane released her hold and turned to go. Iruka quickly followed beside her.

"Let me get the door for you."

"Do not bother, Iruka-sensei," Lady Utatane declared, waving him away. "I can see myself out. Return to your duties."

"Yes, Lady Utatane," Iruka bowed, again, returning to Kakashi's desk.

Lady Utatane watched him return to the Hokage's chair and return to his work. She remained for some time, watching him. Iruka sat back down and scooted forward, taking another pile of papers tacked together by a paperclip. He reached beneath the desk and opened the top drawer, shelving the envelope for now. Then he quickly moved on to his previous task, trying to ignore Lady Utatane's astute stare.

"Iruka-sensei." Iruka looked up again, rising from his seat. "Remain seated," the elder added, and Iruka remained seated. Lady Utatane paused, gazing at him thoughtfully. Iruka practically squirmed in his seat, not knowing what to do when under the tutelage of an elder's gaze. "I am curious to know what the Hokage's doing at this moment to have you left in charge of his duties."

Iruka scratched the bridge of his nose nervously. "He's taking...a personal day," Iruka explained, terribly. The frigidity smile on his face drooped with misery. "He requested a day off—wrote out the request himself."

"I see..."

Iruka nodded, quickly going back to his work. Regardless, Lady Utatane was still there. He tried ignoring her presence and going about his work but found it difficult to perform his duties when her eyes questioned his every movement.

"Are you acting as Kakashi's assistant now, Iruka-sensei?"

"Yes, Lady Utatane."

"Do you enjoy the tasks he gives you?"

Iruka thought about the question, only for a moment, before retrieving more papers to review. "It can be hectic, at times, but the work that is completed here is vital to the function of Konohagakure."

"A well-spoken answer," Lady Utatane responded. Iruka kept his smug smile to himself. "Still, it must be difficult, having to deal with Kakashi's...eccentricities."

Iruka's brow furrowed.

"It must trouble you to some extent, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka looked up again, offering the elder another polite smile. "I manage, Lady Utatane."

"Oh, really? Well isn't that nice." Lady Utatane's beady eyes grew wide. "Although, I hear you're very dedicated to your duties as an Academy teacher, as well." Iruka nodded, busying himself with paperwork rather than how true that statement was. "I also hear you're quite popular among your students, both past and present. I'm sure you miss teaching your classes." Iruka looked up again, surprised. "Academy rosters are public records," Lady Utatane explained. “Not that it is of any difficulty for an elder such as myself to access this kind of information.”

"Oh...right," Iruka frowned.

"As are shifts in the missions room," Lady Utatane added, gracing the front of the desk with her presence. "Your name is scheduled for every shift this week."

"Yes," Iruka nodded, smiling, even though the strain of courtesy was taking its toll. "I thought my days off would be better used picking up other shifts," he explained, which wasn't the truth, but it would be inappropriate to tell an elder the real reason anyway. The truth was Iruka was finding it harder to live off of his Academy salary alone. Expenses weren't cheap, in a shinobi village, especially due to the inflation of goods brought on by the economic havoc of war...

...and food, as Kakashi-san's dogs possessed the appetite of a small nation.

"Truly dedicated," Lady Utatane said.

"Thank you." Iruka gave another hesitant smile, before continuing his work. These stacks of papers weren't going to file themselves, and he had to be done before his shift in the missions room later that day.

"Mm," he heard the elder hum, and he did his best to refrain from responding in any negative manner. Her constant hovering had him concerned with the moment she'd leave rather than the task at hand. "Sacrificing the time afforded to you is surely a challenge. I imagine that, without proper rest, your capabilities as a shinobi are will wane."

Iruka paused, startled and troubled by the implication of Lady Utatane's words. "My capabilities as a shinobi?"

"Of course," she replied, "what with all your time dedicated to work, you couldn't possibly find the time to exercise your skills."

"With all due respect, Lady Utatane, I am quite a capable shinobi."

"I'm sure you are," Lady Utatane smiled, "which is why Kakashi hired you to carry out such vital duties."

What did Lady Utatane mean by that?

"I'm sure Kakashi's personal day is filled with urgent matters, considering he has you here completing his paperwork."

"I volunteered my services to make up for his absence."

"The obligations of an assistant take what little time you must have for yourself. You are due in the missions room in a matter of hours, are you not?"

Lady Utatane made statements like facts Iruka was not already aware of.

"Iruka-sensei," she breathed, smiling her thin-lipped smile. "Clearly, your time could be better prioritized. As a chunin sensei, your first priority should always be the education of your students." Iruka felt his fingers lock into tight grips, clutching at the papers in his hands. "You are aware of this fact. It seems the added workload has caused you to lose sight of things."

Iruka felt a breeze of cold air sweep across his face.

"Clearly, your skill in office duties is the reason he enlisted your help but, surely, you don't believe Kakashi is necessarily in need of your services?"

"He asked and I accepted, Lady Utatane," Iruka answered shortly.

"Your usefulness has been recognized. There are other shinobi in this village with more flexible schedules—assistants that are accredited for their skills in secretarial work."

"Oh?"

Lady Utatane was already standing by the door by the time Iruka worked up the nerve to look at her.

"Perhaps a reevaluation is in order. Kakashi can find himself a stable, hardworking woman to act as a permanent assistant." Lady Utatane judged her surroundings with one last look. "This room is in need of a woman's touch, after all. Wouldn't you agree, Iruka-sensei?"

“I suppose so.” Iruka nodded. "I'll make your suggestions aware to the Hokage-sama," he replied flatly.

Lady Utatane's brow rose, offering very little satisfaction. "Good. See that you do, and make sure that Kakashi receives that dispatch as soon as possible, Iruka-sensei."

"Yes, Lady Utatane," Iruka said with little vitality. He bowed again but couldn't find it in him to smile, too drained by the discussion. "I'll be sure to inform him, as soon as possible."

"Be sure that you do, Iruka-sensei." Lady Utatane gave one last firm nod, before seeing herself out of the room. Iruka watched her go, swaying for a few lingering moments. When he finally collapsed against the Hokage chair, the sight of papers piled together, clipped together, and scattered together made him groan.

He closed his eyes and wished it would all file itself.

 

* * *

 

**15:00**

 

From a distance, they looked like specs of metal flying in the air, clashing up above, and Iruka used the gleam of their weapons to find the right field. To Kakashi-san's convenience and Iruka's annoyance, the jonin had failed to mention what training field he and his sparring party could be found in. However, he breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Yamato-san leaning up against a bent tree. Perhaps he was the tree stump, as well as the leaves bursting from its branches. Knowing Yamato-san's ability to manipulate wood and his history of using said skill for elaborate luxuries...Either way, Iruka's steps turned into a brisk walk, relieved to finally see a familiar face amid the hills and trees.

"Yamato-san!" Iruka shouted from a distance away.

The captain turned. He spotted Iruka and smiled.

"Iruka-sensei!" Yamato waved over. "How are you, this afternoon?"

Iruka's footsteps came to a halt.

"Busy," he joked, offering the jonin a pathetic grin. He lifted the parcel in his hand, further explaining, "I just came by to discuss some business with Kakashi-sama."

"Kakashi-sama," Yamato muttered, looking towards the sky. "Well, he's up there, somewhere...has been for hours," he chuckled, shifting his weight. "If you can get him down from there, then be my guest."

Iruka followed Yamato's gaze, listening to the distinct 'clink' of impact. Now, from below, those specs of sunlight were closely followed by blurs, bodies moving at speeds that only a keen and concentrated eye could dissect. Iruka counted five, three of them human.

"Iruka-sensei!" Iruka felt a firm grip around his midsection, before a sudden jerk pulled him to the left. There, in place of where he once stood, were a dozen or so senbon stabbing the ground. Iruka stared at the small but highly poisonous needles, trying to understand why he himself could not sense the danger headed in his direction. His eyes moved from the ground to the arm wrapped around his waist...the fingers pressing into the mid of his vest with earnest. He turned his attention to the person that had called out his name, Yamato, who now stared at him with a look Iruka knew to be an acute level of concern. "You didn't see that coming?"

Iruka shook his head, a fervent blush spreading across his cheeks.

"No," he swallowed but managed a small smile anyway. "I'm okay, Yamato-san. Thank you." Yamato nodded, releasing Iruka from his hold. The chunin regained his footing and looked away, to the hectic skies above him. Iruka could still feel Yamato's questioning stare but ignored it. The last thing Iruka wanted was to give another person an impressionable opportunity to question his capabilities.

"I understand," Yamato said, to Iruka's dismay. He produced another grateful smile, nonetheless. "You've been working hard, especially since it is Kakashi-senpai..."

"Not as hard as these guys," Iruka beamed, laughing lightly. He pointed at the sky. "Who's up there, anyway?"

"Genma and Raido. They joined in every round since this morning and Kakashi-senpai hasn't turned down their challenge yet."

Genma and Raido, just as Iruka suspected. After all, they were the first two qualified jonin he could think to recommend to be Kakashi-san's sparring partners. He wrote their names down, with a few other suggestions, but he didn't expect the Hokage to listen to him. He expected Kakashi-san to disregard any advisement he had on the matter of ability and to go about choosing based on his own merits rather than the stat records.

Yet he hadn't disregarded him, Iruka thought, his brow furrowing. He chose the first two names Iruka had placed on the list, and it mattered. It caused the smallest sense of satisfaction to fill him, knowing that, to some degree, his opinion held some weight with the other man.

'Or he could just not care,' Iruka considered mentally, and that small grin quickly fell south. Watching the shadows now, as they streaked across the sky in a vicious dance of agility, the chunin remained convinced that Kakashi-san would have never considered training if not to train with shinobi at his skill level.

"What about the other two?" Iruka asked, hearing a distinct howl beyond the trees.

"Shiba and Guruko," Yamato answered, with a tone of good-nature. Iruka glanced at him, the amused gleam in the jonin's gaze causing Iruka's curiosity to grow. "It used to be all eight of them, until the other ninken called it quits."

Iruka frowned. "That doesn't sound like Kakashi-sama's summons."

Yamato shrugged, dropping his arms. "It does when they know they have no assignment to look forward to," he chuckled. "They may not look it, but they're old. Kakashi-senpai's promotion translated into 'retirement' for them."

"You're telling me," Iruka muttered, rolling his eyes.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Iruka held his waist with both hands, studying the sky still. "Where are they now?"

He felt Yamato's eyes more than saw them in his peripheral vision. "They told Kakashi-senpai they were tired, that they quit, and that they were going home."

"Did they now?" Iruka shook his head, snorting a laugh away. When the senbon at his feet caught the sun's reflection, his laughter quickly died out.

"It was a trap," Yamato said, but it didn't make Iruka feel any better, "set up by Genma. It should have gone off thirty minutes ago, but Kakashi-senpai's been bypassing the trigger. I'm guessing Guruko or Shiba set it off."

"Not Raido?"

"Raido was in on it. He wouldn't sabotage his own plan."

"What about you?"

"Me?" Yamato exclaimed, pointing to himself. "I haven't been up there for hours."

"Well, I guessed that, Yamato-san," Iruka pointed out, quickly clarifying, "I mean I'm asking why not, I guess."

"Oh..."

"Yeah." Iruka smiled, glancing towards the sky again. It was easier to imagine the swift movements of the jonin up above, battling out over a large range of land covered in vibrant foliage, than to strike up a conversation with Naruto's former team captain. Yamato was as reserved as Kakashi-san, easier company, and yet Iruka found himself at a loss for words when around the man. Their paths would cross, every so often, but usually only when in the company of others.

"...Teaming up against Kakashi-senpai is very enjoyable," Yamato said, smiling. In the corner of his eye, Iruka watched Yamato's arms fold over his chest.

"That's nice, Yamato-san, but it still doesn't answer the question."

"No, I guess it doesn't," he grinned. Iruka noted that the stretch of Yamato's lips reached both ends of his headgear, matching the distance of his almond-shaped eyes. "My apologies, Iruka-sensei."

"I-It's alright." Iruka blushed. The two turned away from each other, and Iruka welcomed the ensuing silence. He found his fingers gently tapping against the parcel in his hands, as the weight of his body wore down against the balls of his feet.

"I wish to fight Kakashi-senpai, in a one-on-one match, some day again. When I have the chance to observe his battle strategies, as I do now, I take it," Yamato said, his smirk now permanently engraved in Iruka's memory.

"You want a one-on-one fight with Kakashi-sama?"

Yamato nodded. "It's trivial but, when Kakashi-senpai was my ANBU leader, it became a personal goal of mine to defeat him."

"Yamato-san!" Iruka whispered, practically hissed, his eyes shifting vigilantly about the fields around them.

The jonin, however, was oblivious. "Whats wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not supposed to know about...you know..."

"Oh..."

"Yes."

"Right."

Another bout of silence.

Iruka felt anxious, waiting for an opportunity to catch Kakashi's attention. As it was, he could barely see their movements. Every now and then he saw a flash, heard a sound—grunts of frustration and determination. Clearly, the only way to get any attention would have been to scream bloody murder or wait patiently, and Iruka didn't believe he possessed the energy to yell today.

"Yelling out would be an unconventional way of getting someone's attention."

"To think I was just considering it," Iruka said, smiling, "but I guess that would be a little inappropriate."

"For you, Iruka-sensei?" Yamato hummed.

"...It's usually only a last resort, for my students and Naruto," and the ninken...and Kakashi-san.

When in private.

Iruka would never think to call the infamous Copy Nin out when surrounded by their fellow shinobi. After all, he was nothing more than a subordinate in the eye of the public, considering Kakashi-san's prestige and position.

Not a friend.

"Only your students and Naruto, Iruka-sensei?" The gleam lurking in Yamato's uniquely shaped eyes left Iruka unsettled, but he laughed through it. That the other man managed to echo his every thought bewildered him, but Iruka chucked it down to Yamato being a jonin while he was a chunin whose emotions, he'd been told, were easy to read.

'As easy as one of your books, Kakashi-san,' Iruka mentally grumbled.

"You could try flagging him down," Yamato shrugged.

"I can wait." Iruka said smiled the suggestion away. Never mind that he really couldn't stay here forever—he had more paperwork and a shift in the missions room to complete. The attention of jonin in 'kill mode', even while training, did not fit his vision of a peaceful afternoon. He might eventually end up on the receiving end of a sharp object were he to do so.

"I can go up there and get his attention for you, Iruka-sensei," Yamato offered.

"That's alright. I don't want to inconvenience you," he declined, politely.

Yamato waved off the idea. "No inconvenience at all. I—"

"I knew it was him!" The wind shifted around Iruka, as two hind legs and two front paws touched down on the grassy ground before him. "Iruka!" Guruko barked, waving a paw into the air. "There's no mistaking him!"

"Guruko," Iruka smiled.

"Alright, alright." Shiba struck the ground, front paws first, glaring at his brother. "I didn't say you were wrong. I said you were getting too distracted."

"But it's Iruka!" Guruko frowned.

Shiba rolled his eyes, scampering up to the chunin. "Hey, Iruka-sensei." He reached out and licked the man's clenched fingers. That's when he noticed the dark orange parcel. "Hey, what's in there?"

"It's a mystery!" Guruko raced forward, dragging his paws down Iruka's leg. Iruka flushed, glancing towards Yamato, expecting the jonin to judge this display of familiarity and finding only tranquility and mild curiosity.

"It's not a mystery," Iruka said. "It's business for the Hokage-sama."

"Hokage-sama?" Guruko looked at him strangely.

"Yes," Iruka solidified. "Now, if only he would come down to attend to it."

Two other figures shot down from the sky, landing side by side.

"Well, look who it is?" Genma mumbled, rolling a senbon between his lips. "Long time no see, Iruka-sensei."

"Good afternoon, Genma-san," Iruka greeted. Genma gave a curt nod, but his attention was taken by the two ninken circling the Academy sensei. Iruka waved to Raido, but the jonin ignored him entirely.

"Hey, you two," Raido said, glowering at Shiba and Guruko, "get back up there. You're ruining the formation."

"Hang on a second," Shiba shot back, eyeing Raido venomously. "We say hello to Iruka-sensei. You got a problem with that?" The ninken approached Raido, teeth bare, causing Genma to smirk and Raido to back away.

"Okay! Do whatever you want!" He looked to Genma. "I'm going back up."

Genma nodded. "I'll be there in a second."

"Or you'll be there now."

Iruka didn't flinch, only because his nerves were too frayed—worn out from hours of filing paperwork. Kakashi-san hit the ground without a sound, his presence overbearing. Iruka had to blink a few times, having grown so accustom to seeing Hokage robes and formal wear on the jonin that it came to a surprise to see the silver haired man wearing his jonin uniform. Iruka saw Kakashi-san glance his way briefly, before eyeing everyone else.

"Here I was wondering where all my sparring partners went."

"It's Iruka, Kakashi!" Guruko practically danced around, at least, what Iruka presumed was dancing for a dog. He was always a fan of Guruko's endless well of energy but, right now, he couldn't help but envy the lively creature's enthusiasm.

"I can see that." He looked to his fellow jonin. "Genma, Raido." They nodded. "Find your next position and hit me with everything you've got."

"Roger that." Raido leapt away, eager to resume their bout of training.

Genma regarded Iruka with another nod. "I'll see you around, Iruka-sensei. You got a shift tonight, am I right?" he asked.

"Yep." Iruka confirmed.

"Until then," he waved and winked, taking off.

Kakashi turned to Yamato. "You coming?"

Iruka saw the perfect opportunity.

"Kakashi-sama," he said, stepping forward, "I have some information—"

"Not now."

"But—"

"What part of 'not now' do you not understand, Iruka-sensei? I'm in the middle of training, if you couldn't tell."

"I am well aware of that, Kakashi-sama," Iruka seethed, practically biting his tongue. He was tired and annoyed, and he refused to allow Kakashi-san's usual jerkiness to get in the way of performing his duties. Iruka sensed Yamato watching the two of them intently, this time, and he felt his cheeks flare up. "This is one of those matters of importance I talked about before that you need to address."

"I don't see why I need to address it now," Kakashi responded cheekily, his eye glancing over the envelope. "Yamato, are you joining in this time or not?"

"Ah..." The captain resettled against his tree. "I think I'll sit this one out, too," he said, grinning, "but you have all day to train, Kakashi-senpai, and Iruka-sensei needs to get back to work. Maybe you should take care of this business he has for you."

"I'll look at it later,” he drawled in Yamato's direction.

"With all due respect, Kakashi-sama, I'm still here." Iruka's tone bit the air, and yet it still appeared to take every ounce of energy Kakashi-san possessed to spare him another brief glance.

"I am aware of that, Iruka-sensei. I can't imagine why, though."

"Knock it off, Kakashi," Shiba sneered, pawing forward. "He's only doing the job that you asked him to do."

"Yeah. If it wasn't for Iruka, you wouldn't even be out here," Guruko added, his slanted eyes disappearing beneath furry furrowed brow. Iruka smiled, quickly noting to himself to thank Shiba and Guruko for sticking up for him later. Maybe some beef miso soup would do the trick, or a long belly-rub. No matter the reward, Iruka was grateful to see the two ninken pacing before him, defending him.

Still, Kakashi didn't appear to have heard them at all. "Are you two coming, or are you going to give up like the others?"

"They didn't give up," Shiba scoffed. "They got tired of your attitude. Just because it's been a long time doesn't mean you can just—"

"Are you in or out?" Kakashi sounded less belittling and more demanding now. Iruka knew that tone well.

"I'm out," Shiba confirmed, turning away. "Have fun being a jerk."

"Me too," Guruko chimed in, watching his human with sad eyes. "I'm going home."

"See you later, Yamato."

"Shiba. Guruko," Yamato nodded, his oval eyes showing genuine sympathy.

"Bye, Iruka." Guruko reached up, lapping his tongue against Iruka's fingers in farewell. Shiba did the same, before brushing up against Iruka's legs.

"See you later, Iruka-sensei."

"Y-yeah," Iruka breathed, his mind unraveled, but he offered one last affectionate grin before the two ninken puffed away.

Distraught, Iruka turned his attention, again, to Kakashi, taking deep breaths. He was trying to overcome the impulse to just lash out at the Hokage and throw the parcel at his face. How brilliant that would look, written down in his shinobi file: Academy Sensei, Umino Iruka. Age, 26. Misdemeanor(s), struck the Rokudaime with an orange envelope.

With the way Kakashi-san watched him now, like he was nothing more than a bothersome head-case, Iruka thought of doing more than striking the jonin down with a few documents.

'We're in public,' he berated himself. 'This is a shinobi village—there are eyes everywhere. Yamato-san is here.' He felt ill, whenever his eyes shifted to the captain now. 'He probably thinks you're a joke, just like everyone who watches Kakashi-san torment me thinks I am.'

"Kakashi-sama, I've been at your desk, filing paperwork, all day. The least you can do is—"

"I hired you to file paperwork, Iruka-sensei. If you can't do that and leave me in peace, then you might want to reconsider your career choices."

Iruka's control was short-lived, as always. Now furious, he could have flung the parcel to the ground and stormed off. "You selfish ingrate!"

"Iruka-sensei, do I have to remind you you're speaking to the Hokage?" Kakashi all but yawned, eyeing Iruka in boredom.

"Maybe I do need someone to remind me.” Iruka felt a fire raging within him just waiting to be released. “Here I thought I was speaking to a complete ass."

"Iruka-sensei."

Iruka backed away, both mentally and physically, at the sound of Yamato's voice. The other jonin stepped between the two of them, until all Iruka saw was Kakashi's cold, unwavering stare, the red of his own rage, and the back of Yamato's vest.

"Kakashi-senpai...this is unnecessary," he eased, his shoulders inching upward. "It's just a bit a business. Arguing has taken longer."

Kakashi narrowed his brow, glaring.

"Then you deal with him."

He was gone by the time Yamato stepped away, leaving Iruka to burn holes into the space Kakashi-san once stood.

"Sorry about that," Yamato said, drawing nearer, giving Iruka a stare similar to the one he offered Shiba and Guruko.

"Why?" Iruka scoffed. "I don't recall you belittling me in public," he scowled, awaiting the pity that was sure to come. It didn't. However, he did notice his anger make Yamato uncomfortable. He soon dropped his riled fervor for a softer tone. "Thank you, Yamato-san, but you're not the one that should be apologizing."

"I know." Yamato smiled sheepishly, scratching the short strands at the back of his head. "I don't usually say things like this without a few drinks, but, Kakashi-senpai can be an ass."

Iruka gaped, surprised, but he regained his composure and smiled. "That is definitely an understatement, Yamato-san."

Yamato gave a low chuckle and Iruka found himself doing the same. He studied Yamato, eyeing him with newly found ease.

"Yes. I guess it is."

Iruka sighed, looking down. "I could have waited—could have left it on his desk…Maybe I overreacted."

"No you didn't, Iruka-sensei." Yamato frowned, watching Iruka intently again. Iruka had heard many tall tales from Naruto, about his spooky-eyed captain, and he was starting to understand the blonde's irrational terror. "You were doing your job, trying to get Kakashi-senpai to do his job." Yamato sighed, leaning back against his makeshift tree.

"Now I'm doing his job with a slap to the face."

"Think of it as a misunderstanding." Iruka stared at him, skeptical. "Kakashi-senpai isn't just any other shinobi loyal to Konoha anymore. He's the Hokage now. As Rokudaime, he can't go on assignments that are not official business. Time to himself, to train and focus on his skill, is very limited. It's a shinobi village, so our kind is never alone but, as Hokage, Kakashi-senpai is certain to constantly be followed. Where and how he spends his moments of freedom is important to him."

Yamato's words clicked with Iruka, to some extent, but it made little difference right now. Kakashi never once expressed such sentiments to Iruka, so it was merely Yamato's interpretation. If anything, this insight only made Yamato more intriguing to Iruka. He'd never shared so many words with the captain jonin in a conversation that didn't involve other people.

"I can understand the way you see it, Yamato-san, but that doesn't change the fact that Kakashi-sama can be...an ass." He looked to the sky again, but the movements of the three jonin eluded Iruka. He didn't care, figuratively and literally. He needed to return to the office, before his work ran late and into his missions shift. "I've got to go." He turned to Yamato, bowing. "Thank you, Yamato-san."

"Wait, Iruka-sensei."

"Yes?"

Yamato dropped his arms, looking at him, causing mild discomfort in Iruka, but it was obvious he had something he wanted to say. He wasn't nearly as intimidating to talk to as Iruka once believed him to be.

"We don't see each other a lot."

"What do you mean?" Iruka asked.

"We should hang out some time," Yamato clarified, trying again.

"Oh."

It was the only thing Iruka could think to say. They saw each other, in passing. They weren't friends, but Iruka found less value to the concept of friendship with every second spent interacting with the one Hatake Kakashi. Perhaps the lesson in need of learning was to never befriend a jonin.

"I'm not sure we should," he replied, looking down at the ground. Surely hanging out with Yamato would include Kakashi-san, which would only give the Rokudaime another chance to belittle him in front of other people. In any case, Iruka wasn't much of a drinker and, from what he'd heard, Yamato enjoyed frequenting the local bars and wallowing whatever despair being Konohagakure's wood supplier brought him in many rounds of the finest sake.

On second thought.

"You'll enjoy my company, I promise." Yamato smiled. "How about a meal at Ichiraku's? My treat."

"Your treat?" Iruka thought it over and took Yamato's earnest, eager smile into consideration. "I guess I have no choice than to accept the invitation." How could he say no to Ichiraku's? Ichiraku's ramen was the best, in Iruka's opinion, but a shortage in funds had him indulging less. The matter left him feeling guilty for not having treated Naruto to ramen in some time.

"So, is that a yes?"

Iruka eyed the sky one last time. "That's a yes."

Their courtesies were the same, a polite smile, filtering out the awkwardness they both felt.

Iruka found it refreshing enough.

 

* * *

 

**18:00**

 

"So, earlier...what was that all about?"

Iruka heard Genma's question, made himself aware of the jonin's unquenchable curiosity, and decided to ignore him. That didn't stop the senbon-sucking man from turning in his seat and offering a broad smirk to the scarred sensei.

"Come on, Iruka-sensei. You can tell me." He really couldn't. Genma was as notorious for his gossip as Kakashi-san for the Sharingan. "You had a package in your hand." Iruka remained focused on his work, refraining from response. "Did you and the Rokudaime have a falling out?"

"...It was official business. I gave Elder Utatane my guarantee that Kakashi-sama would see to it."

"Elders are always demanding insane tasks that can't be met," Genma grumbled away. "Who cares?"

"I care," Iruka replied, reaching for a stamp. "You've got another report."

"Eh?" Genma turned, taking a missions report from another jonin. He looked it over listlessly, then stamped it and tossed it in his pile. "Why do you call him 'Kakashi-sama', anyway?"

"Because he's the Rokudaime."

"I expect a little less formality from you, I guess," Genma shrugged, sitting back against his chair.

Iruka scratched the bridge of his nose, concentrating on the statements presented before him. Only when he was certain the report was completed in full detail and proper structure did he stamp it. He looked up, giving a polite smile and a firm nod to his fellow shinobi.

"I am nothing but professional, Genma-san."

"I know. It's annoying."

Iruka shot Genma a glare that hardly fazed the jonin.

"You've got another one."

The chunin reached up, greeting another chunin with a generous nod. Iruka felt Genma watching, examining him like a lab rat.

"I guess I'm just trying to understand why a guy like Kakashi would hire someone like you."

"Considering the type of guy Kakashi-sama can be, I should thank you for that compliment," Iruka mumbled, lifting the report to his eyes. The sun was in a stage of setting, but he liked to use what little light filtered through the windows than depend solely on the florescent light above him. It shined a bright orange against the papers in his hands, reminding Iruka that there remained a world beyond the confinements of the missions room.

"You guys are fighting, though, right?" Genma cooed. Iruka sulked, knowing it was never a good sign to see that familiar smirk on the other man's more handsome features. "Makes sense. After all, you've gone for a few weeks now playing assistant to Kakashi, of all people. The two of you are like oil and water, bound to get in a tiff or two."

"I assure you, we aren't in a 'tiff'. There's nothing to tiff about. Furthermore, our differences and my new duties wouldn't strike up a fight now."

"Oh yeah. I forgot. You guys shared the same students."

"We never shared them," Iruka clarified. "I was their Academy sensei. Kakashi-sama was their jonin sensei and team leader. That fact, unfortunately, allowed for more familiarity than was probably warranted."

"I guess that explains why you guys see so much of each other, and why I thought you might have called Kakashi by another name," Genma went on, ignoring everything Iruka had just said.

Even while sitting, Iruka managed to snap his hands against his waist. "I call him by a variety of different names, Genma-san, but none of them are appropriate to repeat in public." Iruka slapped a hand across his face, having caught his mistake too late. He flushed a stark crimson.

"Sounds...kinky." Genma winked, his head leaning against the palm of his hand.

Iruka pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I know what you meant," he agreed, to the chunin's disbelief.

"Genma-san," he said lowly, so not to catch the attention of their co-workers or the dozens of shinobi waiting in line. They did well to keep their conversations light and minimal in volume, and this was a conversation going down avenues Iruka would rather they avoided. But it was a provocative and unavoidable subject, one Genma would never let die. "My relationship with the Rokudaime has always been—"

"—professional. I get that but, for others, it's difficult to understand how an Academy sensei managed a position so close to the Hokage," Genma drawled, rolling his eyes. "I guess that's why all these rumors are flying around." It was a goading statement, Iruka knew, one that he really should have left alone.

"What rumors?" Iruka's eyes narrowed.

Genma clasped his hands together as the weight of his arms came down over their desk. "Some think it's the admiration of a chunin to a superior colleague." Genma shrugged. "Some feel your close relationship to Uzumaki is being used as an excuse to get to know him. Whatever your motives may be," Genma leaned forward, "the rumor is that you're pining for the Rokudaime."

Iruka froze.

"How could you not know about this?"

Iruka formed his words slowly. "How could I not know my fellow shinobi were spreading rumors about me, making snap judgments about things they know nothing about? I couldn't possibly begin to know how to answer that," Iruka muttered bitterly, keeping his composure, and yet he refused to reached out and grab a stamp, for fear that his hands might shake. He could see Genma watching him but, if he could trust that the worry in his gaze was anything other than badly disguised curiosity, the chunin would not have overlooked him.

"What, have you been living under a rock or something?"

"No, I've been WORKING." Iruka closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he sought out his pen, anything to distract his mind, but only managed to find the missions room staring back at him. The air had changed, growing shady and stifling. Iruka suddenly felt suffocated under the fleeting glances and non-committal noises thrown in his direction.

"They've even come up with a nickname for you."

"It's a good thing I don't care, Genma-san."

"Of course you do," Genma grinned, watching the distraught chunin. "You got another one."

Iruka reached out to grab a report but none came, so he looked up. "Please turn in your report," he said to a shinobi he didn't know by name, but he was certain their paths had crossed once before. A lapse in time compelled Iruka to repeat himself. "If you would please turn in your report...?"

"I will, I will," the jonin hummed. He was tall, donning pitch-black hair that spiked in the front and was shaved in the back. "It's been a while since anybody's seen Iruka-sensei in the mission's room. I just wanted to get a good look, in case the sight doesn't last." A couple of jonin chuckled beside him.

"Your report, please," Iruka repeated, with an outstretched hand. He was trying to avoid the business of small talk with obnoxious jonin prone to making snide remarks.

The jonin placed a hand against the edge of the desk. "What's wrong? Kakashi-sama's errand boy eager to return to his Hokage's side?" The two other jonin, surely friends of his, laughed, as did a few other jonin and a couple of chunin occupying the same compacted space. "You're like a dog following his master, aren't you?" the jonin scoffed. "Maybe you should spend less time picking up lessons from the Rokudaime's summons and more time on doing your job."

Iruka lowered his hand, his arm quickly retreating.

"Such your damn trap," Genma scowled, shoving himself in front of Iruka, but it didn't matter to him. "Either give him your report or get the hell out of here."

"Or what?" the nameless jonin asked in challenge.

Genma eyed him dangerously. "Or I'll throw you out myself, with a few complimentary puncture wounds by yours-fucking-truly."

"...Fine."

Iruka heard the jonin stroll away. Given the fact that Genma was returning to his seat, the chunin had no reason to believe that his buddies were standing in his line anymore. But the damage was already done. It rippled through the room in the form of carelessly concealed whispers and bouts of sudden laughter.

"I need to go." Iruka charged out of his seat before the words even escaped him. He felt the disapproving glances of his veteran colleagues, but Iruka found it easier to not care about his abandoned his duties let alone causing a scene.

"Go? Go where?" Genma asked. "Your shift isn't over."

"I know, I..." Flustered, Iruka went about tidying his pile. "I just need to step out and get some fresh air. It'll only be for a minute or so." He offered the jonin a weary smile. "Do you mind picking up the slack?"

Genma's gawked.

"No, not at all. It's not going to be up to your standards, but—"

"I don't care." Iruka shoved his chair in. "I'll be back."

“Alright then."

It felt like the longest stretch of room Iruka had ever traveled in his entire life, but he managed to suffer through it just long enough to dodge out of the door and continue down the hall. He didn't know where his feet were taking him but it was far away from the missions room, far away from the confusion of his colleagues, Genma's curiosity, the accusing stares and degrading laughter. Vivid memories of his Academy days started to flash before his eyes, kids laughing at him while teachers looked on with disapproval, making the ordeal all that more traumatizing.

Surely, wherever he went would take him farther than a span of a minute or so.

 

* * *

 

**0:00**

 

Iruka wound up returning an hour later, not that this disturbed Genma in the least bit. The jonin was too busy napping away a good portion of his shift while, every now and then, marking off the odd report. Iruka was certain that, within an hour, all those people once waiting in line had long since returned to their daily routine. At least then he could suffer through the loud whispers and inconsiderate laughter under feigned oblivion.

The door handle felt unusually heavy tonight, weighing Iruka down. He pressed up against the closed door and threw back his head, finding solace in the loud 'thud' his skull made with its cheap wood. And he slid, collapsing beneath his own disheartened state.

"I didn't think you'd get home this late."

Iruka jumped back on his feet, startled. Not even he could be so oblivious. He should have sensed another person's presence, especially one this overwhelmingly familiar. His heart raced with sudden alarm, long after he turned his gaze to the silver haired jonin lurking in his kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Iruka swallowed, kicking off the door.

Kakashi-san emerged, as well composed as ever. "I'm always here," he answered.

"I can't imagine why," Iruka huffed out, charging into his living room. He turned on the jonin, one hand gripping his waist, and pointed to the front door. "Get out."

He didn't expect Kakashi-san to disappear in a wisp of smoke, just because he demanded it, but he wished he would. Never mind the minutes Iruka would waste wondering why Kakashi-san stood in his kitchen with the lights off. Just seeing the other man did nothing to ease the ache accumulating from beneath his temple.

He awaited the jonin's knee-jerk response, something he learned to just accept and ignore a long time ago.

"Maa..." A silver brow lifted into the limp strands of silver hair. "You want me to leave, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka rubbed a hand over his tired face. "Usually, when someone tells someone else to get out, it's commonly understood to mean they don't want..." Iruka pressed a fist against his lips, silencing himself before he could finish whatever this retort was. The truth was he was too tired to think right now. "This is ridiculous."

"I agree," Kakashi-san hummed, leaning against the kitchen counter top. "I'm not going anywhere."

Iruka dropped his hand, fuming. "Why, because you think I can't kick you out? Because I'm weaker than you? Because you're the Hokage? No, don't answer that," he added, pressing a hand into the air. Kakashi-san would answer that question, and would gladly do so with an outline of justifications. "Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter. I'll just pretend you have an ounce of decency or respect for me and leave."

"I respect you." Another short-spoken response.

"No fellow shinobi who respected me would have disrespected me the way you did today, Kakashi-san!" Iruka found himself shouting, his eyes bearing down on the impenetrable wall that was Kakashi-san's demeanor. The fact that Kakashi-san expressed no emotion—didn't even think to react, only made Iruka angrier. "I've come to grips with the fact that you enjoy tormenting me, teasing me for whatever sick enjoyment, but you were never as cruel as you were today. It was pointless, when all you had to do… Had I known you were going to treat me like an imbecile, I would have never come down there!"

Kakashi nodded slowly. "What was in that envelope you needed to give me?"

"If you want to know, you can read it yourself," Iruka seethed.

"Ne...Where is it?" Kakashi shrugged.

The vein in Iruka's temple throbbed.

"At your office, you soulless ass!" Iruka snapped, pacing, punishing his living room floor. "You would know that if you went there more often, something you promised you'd do. I shouldn't be so surprised to see you don't give a damn about your obligations, but I am! I really am!"

"Maa, Iruka-sensei." Iruka held his tongue, waiting. It would be nice to hear Kakashi-san say anything, if only to nitpick about how insensitive the response was and exhaust the rest of his anger there. Even in the dim light emitting from his mantle, Kakashi's expression remained unreadable. He appeared somber, regretful, even. "It's too late to be yelling."

"I CAN YELL WHENEVER I WANT, YOU JERK!"

Iruka paused, his chest rising and falling. The chunin truly felt he had exhausted the last of his energy. Considering the sweat drop on Kakashi-san's brow, the man thought him more crazed than hurt, and Kakashi-san had hurt him. Iruka realized he no longer cared if the man was listening to him.

He laughed. It was a sad laugh, one that caused his throat to constrict and go hoarse.

"What's going on in here?" Pakkun grouched out, appearing from the hallway. He was closely followed by his fellow ninken, all of whom looked torn from a deep sleep. Ears twitched and perked, as lazy gazes shifted between the two men. "Iruka?"

Iruka said nothing, not knowing what to say. They looked worried. Upset. Troubling the ninken was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Go back to sleep," Kakashi-san ordered, a look of annoyance in his eye. Finally, Iruka thought...some emotion.

"We want to know what's going on," Urushi said, giving his human an equally annoyed glance.

Bull took two steps forward, with Bisuke sitting on his sturdy back. "We heard shouting...we heard Iruka—"

"And wondered what silly thing you did this time, Kakashi," Bisuke grumbled, lowering his head against his front paws.

"It's nothing. You can leave now."

"What do you mean it's nothing?" Uhei asked, watching Iruka intently. The chunin fought to compose himself, the way a shinobi must always compose themselves. "What's wrong, Iruka-sensei?"

"It's nothing," he mimicked Kakashi-san's words, lowering his head. "I was...startled. That's all." He looked to Kakashi-san, unable to keep the anger from his gaze. "I didn't see him in the kitchen, and he took it upon himself to startle me and I reacted."

Pakkun's gaze switched, back and forth. "Are you sure, Iruka-sensei?"

"Yes. I'm fine." He smiled. "Sorry to wake you. Go back to bed. I'll be there in a few."

Unconvinced, the ninken didn't move.

"You heard Iruka-sensei," Kakashi-san chimed in, and Iruka couldn't help wishing the jonin would just shut up. He was tired of listening to that condescending tone, a voice dripping with self-satisfaction. Like Iruka was on his side, anyway. "Go back to bed. This has nothing to do with you."

"Clearly," Shiba scowled.

"I'm sure, Pakkun," Iruka continued, having their full attention. Despite being Kakashi-san's summons, the nin dogs listened to him, maybe more than they listened to Kakashi-san. They definitely listened to him a lot more than their human did. If anyone were to feel satisfaction at this moment, it was him. "I need to talk to Kakashi-san. Alone."

"Alright then, young pup," Pakkun said, giving Iruka a small nod. "Let's go guys."

They left, with no questions—not even the whining Iruka expected from a rather anxious-looking Guruko. Their small pack turned away, retreating with worried glances. Iruka held is breath during those seconds it took to hear his bedroom door click close again. He heaved a great sigh, his eyes flashing to Kakashi-san, and noticed that the jonin hadn't moved.

That was normal.

"Iruka-sensei—"

"Let me speak. Please, Kakashi-san," Iruka insisted, seeing the movement of lips beneath Kakashi-san's mask. "You see? This is why I didn't want to be your assistant…"

"..."

Iruka looked away, his face burning. He couldn't keep his glare on Kakashi-san, not when the jonin's gaze fixed itself in stone as he stared back at him. "This is why...this is why I should have never accepted..." Iruka fell silent. The day replayed in his mind, from the joy of making Take smile, if only for a moment, to the despair of this moment. He thought about that envelope, the message Lady Utatane wanted him to give to Kakashi-san. "Lady Utatane came by to give you the package but, had I said it came from an elder, I knew you'd only ignore it."

Kakashi-san said nothing. It was true, however. The jonin's dislike for elders had reached an all-time high, starting with their decision to nominate his name. Any opportunity for insubordination was a good opportunity to Kakashi-san. To think Iruka felt sorry for the jonin, being forced into a position he less than desired. He thought if he could alleviate the demands of being the Hokage and make things easier for Kakashi-san, if only a little bit, than Kakashi-san would appreciate him more.

The way a friend would.

"She told me to hand it to you, as soon as possible."

"Mm... That explains why you were so persistent."

"She suggested I resign." Iruka heard something move, but he couldn't see what it was. Kakashi-san didn't seem to have moved an inch, with his hands gripping the edge of the counter. The sound must have come from the unit next door.

"Resign from the Academy."

"No," Iruka snapped, as the mere thought of leaving the Academy sparked a fire within him. "Resign from being your assistant. Elder Utatane believes there are more qualified individuals out there, who are more than capable to replace me."

"Iruka-sensei..."

Iruka started pacing again, slowly. "I've been thinking about it, and, maybe I should remove myself from the position. You obviously don't care, either way. You just need someone to pick up the slack, so you can go on with your daily routine. And I can't work like this."

"Iruka-sensei, what are you trying to say?" Kakashi-san asked, pressing off the counter. His eyes were narrowed, accusingly, as though Iruka had said or done something wrong.

"I should have never agreed to be your assistant," Iruka practically repeated at this point, glaring at the distant jonin. "Even when you couldn't take 'no' for an answer, I should have said no until you gave up. You said you needed me." Iruka shook his head. "You wanted me, because it was easier to ask me than to go through the process of looking for someone else. Speak with Elder Utatane. I'm sure she'll gladly provide references for more suitable applicants."

“I don't want another assistant."

"You don't know that," Iruka countered, "because you haven't looked."

Iruka stopped, standing before his couch. The thought of falling against its cushions and drifting into a deep sleep was appealing. Yet he couldn't stop himself from thinking about Kakashi-san and how he'd been sleeping there for weeks.

"Leave or stay. I don't care." He walked away, making sure to avoid Kakashi-san's gaze at all cost. "Goodnight, Kakashi-sama."

"Iruka."

Iruka wasn't sure what made him stop but he did, with the palm of his hand pressed up against the hallway wall. He wouldn't face Kakashi-san, but something in his voice forced Iruka to stay and hear him out. If the jonin would only apologize, just this once, it would make all the difference in the world to him.

"I made dinner."

"Eh?" Iruka turned, absolutely mystified. Kakashi-san stood in the same place, his lazy-eyed stare studying him. "You…you cooked?" Suddenly, the faint smell of food reached Iruka's nostrils. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, in his own shattered state that the delicious smell of food, the warm air of cooking, had evaded his senses. He frowned, knowing he wouldn't have noticed had Kakashi not been here to tell him.

"Gyudon," Kakashi-san nodded, "and I left the sauce on the side, just in case." The jonin tilted his head back. "I put everything in the oven to keep it warm. Shall I heat a plate for you?"

"It's midnight," Iruka whimpered, rubbing his temple. Iruka wanted sleep more than food.

"Maa…are you not hungry?" Kakashi frowned.

Iruka couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"No," he said, with little pity. It wasn't enough. After all the trouble Kakashi-san put him through, Iruka could care less whether or not the jonin cooked. Although, very rarely was it that Kakashi-san ever cooked. Iruka had lost track of time and forgotten to eat today, but he would rather go to bed starving than let the jonin think that a meal could make everything okay.

"Are you sure, Iruka-sensei? It's steamed white rice, with miso on the side. I think you'll like it."

"I'm not hungry," Iruka stated firmly, turning to go. "Goodnight."

Iruka's head span and not only due to his growing headache. An uncontrollable force took hold of him, tossing him around. He stumbled back, thinking he was going to fall in the hallway, but the grip around his wrist stopped him from doing so.

"Iruka-sensei." He could see his arm, on level with his eyesight, and the pale, deathly cold fingers wrapped around it. He felt the pressure of Kakashi-san's body up against his own and couldn't help the faint blush on his cheeks.

"I said I'm not hungry, Kakashi-sama," Iruka said tightly. He looked up and saw what could have been fear in Kakashi-san's calculated eye, and he knew then that a lack of sleep had made him delusional.

"You're not resigning," Kakashi said. Iruka closed his eyes to the feel of Kakashi's subtle breath against his face.

"Is that a question or an order, Kakashi-sama?"

Kakashi-san stepped forward, and Iruka didn't step back. He waited for the jonin to speak, trying to ignore the fingers pressing against his skin.

"…I don't understand what I did wrong, Iruka-sensei," he said. Iruka's face dropped, a sense of defeat rushing over him. His forehead fell forward, met with Kakashi-san's solid form, but he didn't care. It felt good to rest his head, even if it was against the chest of a man he had every reason to despise. He didn't want to focus on the steady drumming beneath Kakashi-san's ribcage, but it pulsed against his brow. Iruka's heart raced, with Kakashi-san so near, but the jonin's heartbeat remained cool, collected, and as calm as the man it belonged to.

"I know you don't," Iruka exhaled and, to his dismay, managed to inhale everything that was the other man. It was a scent faintly reminiscent of fine spices, damp wood, and the night air. It was irresistible, and Iruka hated how much he enjoyed it. It calmed his nerves and made him want more.

Then the unspoken jeers and judgmental glances of the missions room came to mind.

Iruka thought of Genma, the jonin's smirk, and the supposed rumors about him. He stopped caring what others thought the day he proved himself worthy of the title Chunin, but it still made him uneasy to think that his fellow ninja could speak of him in such a demeaning way. He panicked when the thought of Kakashi-san hearing rumors crossed his mind, but the feeling passed. 'Kakashi-san doesn't pay attention to such things,' he thought, relieved.

"You really don't understand anything, Kakashi-sama. That's the real shame, I suppose," Iruka frowned, pulling away, not knowing whether to be glad or upset when Kakashi-san released him.

The chunin walked away, aware of that studious grey eye. It made the short tendrils on the nape of his neck stand on end. Considering Kakashi-san's habit of analyzing him, he thought he should have been used to it by now, but he wasn't. For the second time that day, he managed the longest stretch of seconds, sulking down the hall with his head hanging low. When he finally reached his bedroom door, pulling the door handle with a trying grip, he still felt the presence of the Rokudaime and his unyielding gaze watch him go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The ending to this chapter surprised even me (because it's been so long since I wrote it). I'm kind of annoyed and very saddened by it. Didn't remember it ending on such a low note, Imo. :(


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naruto makes progress during a routine prison visit with Sasuke.

"I haven't been out of the village since then," Naruto said, filling the silence.

The body lying in the distance made no movement or any inclination to respond.

Naruto wasn't all that certain the other was even listening, but he continued, "Gaara's doing great, though. The Sand people really look up to him now. He's in agreements with the Rain, to make better use of their borders. If all goes well, the Wind Country will have access to more resources," Naruto finished brightly.

Naruto fell silent, in hopes of hearing a reaction this time and yet receiving none. He sighed and looked down, staring at the stumpy legs of his stool, racking his brain for something else to say. He spent all of his visits searching for things to discuss, lest he sit through the manic cries that echoed from neighboring cells. What was worse was that he couldn't help but notice the stark difference between himself and his surroundings. He glowed like a bright orange flame, brighter than the dismal torchlight on the far corners of every hall within the prison's lifeless interior.

Light was so bleak, and Naruto found it difficult to make out his dark-haired friend. But, as his eyes began to adjust, he could see the other crumbled into the bland colors of a filthy cot and prison clothes.

"Sakura-chan is doing okay, too," Naruto began again, smiling. "She spends a lot of time at the library, helping Sai catalog books." His face quickly soured at the thought. "They always want me to join them, but that doesn't sound like much fun to me, so I tell them no. Sai says he wants to get a better idea of human nature, which is weird," Naruto laughed lightly, his grin so wide that his cheeks pushed his eyes closed. "I guess Sakura-chan doesn't mind tagging along... Actually," Naruto continued, again, in a sobering tone. He quickly returned to staring at his stool. "…I think Sakura-chan is still grieving for Baa-chan, and going to the library takes her mind off of other…things." He looked up quickly. "We're all still grieving. I feel the same way I did when Ero-sennin died…. I feel lost, Sasuke."

Again, Sasuke said not a word, but this did not surprise Naruto. He busied himself with the belief that he was lost, certainly, but not alone. All shinobi of the leaf felt this way. Villagers were more alert these days, even more so than they were at the start of the war. The village wondered what would happen to its image, should another village see the Godaime's absence as a weakness. Villagers, dependent on the safeguard of a strong shinobi government, feared a leaderless village. Then Kakashi-sensei replaced Tsunade Baa-chan, making some significant improvement to morale, Naruto supposed.

Though not greatly known for intellect or even the sharpest mind, he knew what he felt. Naruto did not attend his jonin sensei's inauguration…to imagine the older man taking the seat of Rokudaime caused him a considerable amount of anguish already.

Still, staring back at Sasuke's limp form, he smiled sheepishly.

Naruto always imagined himself as the Rokudaime of Konohagakure, and that idea made him swell with sheer happiness—made him think of the Fourth and the pride his parents would have felt to see him finally reach his goal.

He thought of Iruka-sensei and the encouragement the man had always afforded him. Iruka was the family he never had but, when he confronted the Kyuubi, his parents, and their memories of seventeen years hence, Iruka became the family he had always known. His mother and father had given their lives to protect him, but Iruka nurtured him the way he imagined his parents would have had they had the chance.

The aftermath of the war made Naruto optimistic about becoming Hokage. He imagined Iruka and how proud he'd be. Kakashi-sensei would have come to see him as a leader, and all of Konoha would have, at last, acknowledged his strength. Sakura-chan would have seen how skilled and courageous he was. Perhaps he would feel for himself what Hinata had always known of him and make her proud, too.

Then there was Sasuke.

In one decisive act, Naruto had given up his dream in order to take care of his friend. His bright blue eyes ran up and down the length of Sasuke's pale, nearly lifeless body, and he sighed in exasperation. Iruka was proud of his decisions, he knew, but the response of his friends, of his teammates was, more or less, short of pity. Worse, Kakashi-sensei seemed indifferent, and the village, to Naruto's chagrin, grew to distance itself from him once again.

And Naruto was not so naïve as to not understand this fact. The Fourth Shinobi War was his fight, to protect his village. His growth had been forced the night his parents entrust Kurama within him. Instincts had kicked in, instincts only heightened by growing up an orphan. He knew what the village thought of him, what his closest friends thought of him. He knew what he did to bring Sasuke back was insane, and he often wondered what he would have done different that day, on the battlefield, knowing the consequences.

But he always came to the same verdict, realizing he would have gone to the same extremes if it meant saving Sasuke from himself.

"Hey, Sasuke, you remember that one time, when Kakashi-sensei took us fishing at Nouka-san's pond? I caught a fish this big!" he exclaimed jubilantly, stretching the length of his arms. Then he dropped them. "That's what I kept bragging, at least. I wanted to impress Sakura-chan, but I don't think it worked. She spent the whole day watching you," Naruto smirked. "Neh, teme? I did everything I could to get her attention. I even jumped off the waterfall and, it would have been a long way down, if you hadn't caught me with your line." He laughed. "Remember that? Those were good times. And Kakashi-sensei was so cool back then. He's still really cool. I mean, what's cooler than being Hokage, eh?" Naruto shrugged. "That's pretty cool.

"I heard he didn't even show up for his own inauguration. Only really cool guys do that," Naruto grinned cheekily. "You were always cool, too, Sasuke, but I think you let it get to that big head of yours. Girls like cool guys, which is why I could never get a date!" Naruto grazed a hesitant hand through his spiky, blonde locks. "The first date I went on with Hinata, I didn't feel very cool. I was a little nervous, to be honest. I mean, she's doesn't say much, does she? It's intimidating, but then she just smiles at me in this way no one else does...In any case, I nearly passed out before we even made it to Ichiraku's!" he laughed nervously. "When we got there she didn't say anything, either. I ended up eating twenty bowls of pork ramen! I couldn't think of anything to say to fill the silence—"

"Really? You couldn't think of anything to say?" Like a dead body rolling in its grave, Sasuke turned, slowly, his body pressing deeply into the stained mattress beneath him. "You're an expert in being an annoying idiot. You could have just kept talking, like right now, until you killed her with your psychobabble."

"Sasuke!" Ecstatic, Naruto leaped off the stool, an uncontrollable grin reaching across his face. At long last, Sasuke rolled over, his bleak obsidian stare clear amid the darkness. "I knew you were awake," Naruto laughed.

"Shut up."

"I almost ran out of stuff to say here, too…"

"I said shut up!"

Naruto went quiet, his grin falling in the face of Sasuke's demand. Slowly, the dark haired prisoner climbed to his bare feet and slumped forward, his footsteps slapping mercilessly against the stone floor. Naruto watched nervously, his eyes fixed on the drooping of Sasuke's hair. The last remaining Uchiha approached, getting closer and closer, until pale fingers wrapped tightly around the bars of his cell.

Naruto stood back a bit, but not by much. He kept his friend's cold, deadening gaze.

"…Why do you keep coming here?"

Naruto chuckled, but it was a hollow noise. His voice was trapped somewhere in his throat, afraid to believe the illusion of Sasuke standing before him, looking at him, actually speaking to him. The blonde figured if it really was his imagination, surely that pitch black stare would be more reassuring.

"I'm your friend, Sasuke. Why wouldn't I come—?"

"I said shut up," Sasuke reiterated harshly.

Naruto's face screwed up. "You teme," he barked. "You asked me a question. How the hell am I supposed to answer if I can't talk?"

"That's the point," Sasuke scoffed, turning away. Then he approached, again, all the while glaring at Naruto. "I can't think when you keep going on about absolutely nothing."

Naruto frowned. "I just wanted you to talk to me," he said.

"You have succeeded." Sasuke leaned in close, his hands gripping the thick bars between them. Rust smudged into the grooves of his fingertips. "Tell me," Sasuke urged in a low, hoarse croak. "Why do you keep coming here to see me?"

"I-I told you," Naruto stammered but managed a wavering smile. "You're my friend."

"You have other friends." Sasuke let go of the bars, and Naruto let out a deep exhale. Even in Sasuke's weakened state, the Uchiha exerted an all-encompassing presence, a dark aura strengthened by years spent in the company of very powerful and very evil shinobi. Instantly, Orochimaru came to mind, closely followed by the Akatsuki and Madara.

The thought of them made Naruto's blood boil.

They may not have been Sasuke's friends, but they were all former allies. The Uchiha had never been very agreeable or nice, but Naruto knew in his heart that the former did not acquire this all-consuming obscurity from the Hidden Leaf.

"I mean, I would think you had friends by now. After all," Sasuke leaned forward, the familiar smirk engraved in Naruto's memory stretched over the prisoner's dry lips. "You are a hero now…aren't you?" Then Sasuke laughed a cold and hollow hiss that sent chills up Naruto's spine. "Forgive me, if I can't help but wonder why a hero, a dead-last idiot hell-bent on becoming Hokage, keeps coming to see me."

"I told you, you're—"

"Your friend. I know."

Sasuke returned to his cot, collapsing on its edge, and Naruto thought the other looked more exhausted than he ever did curled up in that sorry excuse of a bed. Silence grew between them, and it was familiar in an uncomfortable way. Yet Naruto felt at ease, having finally heard Sasuke speak. Weeks spent coming here only to be disappointed by the distant silence of the other had prepared Naruto for an onslaught of verbal abuse. There was nothing Sasuke could say or do to him that would make him leave now.

"So then…why aren't you basking in Konoha's victory? You did say you wished to become the leader of the village one day, didn't you?"

"It wasn't a victory, teme," Naruto replied, again using the nickname he had grown so fond of but rarely was given an opportunity to use. For years, he had longed for the day he would be able to say it again. "Many people died. It was the survival of this village, not a victory."

"Survival…" Sasuke repeated, trailing away. He looked to Naruto, slowly, his sunken face growing grim. "I understand the need to survive."

The predetermined conversation drained Naruto of all remaining cheer. "Do you?" he asked, with timid tone, staring into his former comrade's eyes. He then looked to the grimy, mildew-ridden stone beneath his feet. "It's kind of like loneliness, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about, dobe?"

Naruto grinned. "I always thought that was something we had in common, Sasuke." He saw something change in Sasuke's eyes, the slightest glaze of recognition in those pools of pitch black. "I saw you, at the Academy, and how alone you were. But you were better than me at everything, and everybody liked you."

"Well, wasn't that just perfect for me?"

"It wasn't," Naruto cut in, meeting Sasuke's stare head-on. "You were as popular as I was hated, and you were still alone." He paced a few steps to the left, placing him at center before Sasuke's cell. "I didn't know it back then, but I realize now that all I wanted was people to depend on and them me." Naruto sighed, clasping the bars. His eyes veered onto a stone wall. "I guess that's what it must feel like, to have a mother, a father…a brother."

Naruto felt Sasuke's eyes burning into him, and he welcomed the intense heat amid the cold and dank prison walls.

"I was born not knowing my family. I guess that's why I was so eager to see that I had one, with other people like me. You say we're different, because I never knew my parents, but I never thought we were. I just wanted what you once had.

"So, I don't care if people think I'm a hero," Naruto said, smiling. "Whether they like it or not, they have no other choice than to acknowledge me and recognize my greatness. Konohagakure needs me," much more than he needed Konohagakure, Naruto thought.

The look Sasuke graced him with was inquisitive, but not at all dismissive or skeptical or even disgusted, like Naruto thought it might be. The older shinobi was thin-lipped and perceptive, the unmistakable trademarks of an Uchiha descendant considering his next words.

"…Tch. You sound a lot smarter than I remember, dobe," Sasuke muttered, rolling his eyes. Naruto grinned like a fool, watching the taller of them come forward once more.

"I've spent a lot more time around Shikamaru," Naruto shrugged, his lips upturned.

"There… you have friends, after all. I guess you don't need all of Konoha," Sasuke said, hanging against the bars. He gave a grin but an ugly one, as though his face had forgotten what it was to smile.

Naruto stepped closer, not thinking much of it. "No. I don't need Konoha," he said, his fingers spread out and laced into the spaces of the bars.

For the first time in months, Naruto had been granted a good look at his friend. The torchlight only softened the torture in Sasuke's physiology, blurring his gaunt features. He was nothing like the splendor that stood off against Konoha some half a year ago. Sasuke appeared far or less savage and yet still managed to preserve the dignity and quiet composure of the elite Uchiha clan. Even when malnourished, confined, and brutal treatment weighed upon his shoulders, Sasuke still carried himself in a manner Naruto was never raised to or cared to possess.

"You look better, somehow," Naruto blurted out, not really knowing which way to go about the subject. Regardless, his unconventional broach of topic only managed to spark Sasuke's irritability.

"I look better compared to what, you idiot? You've established nothing to compare me to."

"Eh?" The corner of Naruto's upper lip curled and his blue eyes bulged with confusion. "What would I compare you with?" he asked, positively perplexed.

Sasuke stared at him blankly, his tone turning dry. "I take back that comment about you sounding smart," he scoffed. "And here I was going to encourage you to talk more about things you really know, rather than having to listen to you talk about people and things I couldn't give a shit about. Maybe you need more exposure to that Nara kid. Better yet, you can start on that now and leave me alone."

"You bastard!" Naruto scowled. "Did you just call me stupid?"

Sasuke stared at him. "I guess I did, in so many words. You'd think you'd be used to it by now."

"I'm a lot smarter than you think!" Naruto cried out, flinging his fist into the air. "Ouchie!" He squealed when he accidentally hit his hand against the bars. "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" he hopped away, waterfalls streaming down his cheeks.

"Tch," Sasuke scoffed. "Of course you are."

Naruto finally came back to reality, clutching his throbbing hand with tender care. He often got carried away, in great fervor, a trait he commonly associated with the likes of Iruka-sensei or Ero-sensei. He most likely learned it from the two of them.

"The guards are treating me well," Sasuke said, gazing about the dark chamber. So use to staring at the solid concrete wall beside his cot, the sight was an unfamiliar reminder of his current residence.

"Treating you well?" Naruto asked, still nursing what was certain to be a fractured hand.

"They're starting to treat me the way they treat everyone else," Sasuke clarified. Both understood that the stretch of difference was minute but evident. "They feed me my meals, they clean my quarters…they leave me alone," he finished, his voice but a harsh whisper.

Naruto furrowed his brow, his thoughts exploring this new knowledge. Sasuke's cell was less than adequate for living in, but it was far more tolerable than the week before. That the linen cloth stretched across Sasuke's cot was there, that his prison garbs were stained but permeated with a stench of fresh laundry, and that the infested floor had been swept with half-hazard consideration, to where the prisoner would at least want to pace the ground on his bare feet, was a significant difference.

He noticed straight off that the apparent dark red and blue bruises once marring Sasuke's exposed chest, neck, and arms were healing with time. Fresh marks of anger were non-existent. Still, Naruto was hesitant to raise the subject of what the guards were and were not doing to his friend.

"I'm glad you're eating again," Naruto smiled gratefully, looking to his feet. He'd spent days, watching the Uchiha from outside his cell, squat on a stool, and not once did a prison guard come by to feed Sasuke his daily meals. Whenever he asked about the neglect, his time as a visitor had mysteriously reached an end.

"I had no other choice," Sasuke grunted, his eyes hovering above the intersection of a horizontal bar. "I admit, I wasn't eating. The fact that the guards didn't seem all that keen on feeding me was fine." Sasuke scoffed, his head shaking slightly. "I forgot about Iruka-sensei's temper."

"Iruka-sensei?" Naruto breathed, his eyes growing wide. "He was here?"

"He brought me a care package, like you did. Unlike you, he's a lot harder to ignore…as adamant as ever." Sasuke paused, staring at Naruto thoughtfully. "I thought you knew, considering it was you who asked him to come here."

"I did," Naruto admitted.

Sasuke nodded. "I thought you did. Still," he sighed, "Iruka-sensei's genuine concern for me is as annoying as you are."

"Then why did you take the food?"

"I told you," Sasuke said, his gaze narrowing. "He was adamant." He looked away. "I promised him I'd eat everything he gave me. A few days later and, suddenly, the guards are giving me my two meals a day."

"I'm happy to hear it," Naruto stated firmly. Inside, he was bursting with relief. He went to Iruka-sensei because he trusted the older man more than anyone else in the village. He didn't know what good Iruka could do or if he was even willing to help him help Sasuke at all, but he had and with speed Naruto had not anticipated.

"I'm curious." Apparently, Sasuke did not share his relief. "Considering Iruka-sensei is just an Academy instructor. I figured you went to him, because you could no longer fix the situation yourself. If the guards had any ounce of respect towards you or your wishes, they would have treated you and the only prisoner you visit with more courtesy. They don't." Sasuke released the bars. "I guess being a hero gives you no perks. Or maybe the guards care less about the title than you do. Regardless, your persistence went unanswered. Out of desperation, you went to the one person you trust the most, regardless of whether or not they were in a position to change anything. So either Academy senseis have more authority than I ever imagined…" Sasuke pressed close against the bars, until the bridge of his nose protruded beyond the barrier of his cell. "Or you talk about your visits to more than the one person you trust."

Naruto was dumbfounded, for a lack of a better word. Sasuke had always been smarter, more observant than he was, but he didn't expect such sharp perception from a prisoner in Sasuke's condition.

"I trust very few people, these days," Naruto said, images of death and betrayal flashing before his eyes. He recalled Madara baiting the weakest of their shinobi with power, the mind manipulations, the trances, and many of them died under the ruse of false promises.

"Who do you talk to about these visits?" Sasuke asked, his tone growing annoyed once more. He was suddenly angered and unnerved, and Naruto could not blame him. Paranoia was the cursor of a true shinobi.

"No one," Naruto answered.

"Who else did you talk to about me?"

"I haven't talked to anyone!" Naruto shot back, his voice rising. He didn't appreciate Sasuke's reproachful glare.

"Teammates? Sakura?"

"No," Naruto shook his head and adamantly so. "Not even Sakura-chan," he said. There was a rift between him and the pink haired kunoichi, Naruto felt, ever since the end of the war. Despite their camaraderie, their friendship, he felt uneasy by the idea of opening up to her. Whatever conversations or interactions they shared now were always tense, strained with a need for privacy Naruto could not explain.

Naruto never brought up the discussion of Sasuke, but he could tell that Sakura wanted nothing more than to know what was happening to the Uchiha. He couldn't bring himself to say much, believing that he alone was responsible for Sasuke's wellbeing. It was his business, his ordeal to share with the Uchiha. It took him great strength and every fiber of his being just to ask Iruka for help.

The way Sasuke looked at him now was probing, skeptical, as though looking for the truth.

"Okay," the prisoner uttered, eventually, backing away. "In any case, you got your wish, but I don't understand how Iruka-sensei made…made them stop."

Naruto didn't need to be told what it was the guards had mysteriously stopped doing. The evidence was clear all over the visible parts of Sasuke's body.

"I asked no one else but Iruka-sensei for help. I told no one else but him about what they were doing to you," Naruto paused, his harsh tone at the thought of those nameless prison guards ebbing away. "I only talk to Iruka-sensei, anyway, nowadays."

"Really…" Sasuke stared at him, an unidentifiable expression on his face. "Friends?"

"That's different," Naruto said, waving his good hand dismissively. He stepped away, beginning a subtle back-and-forth pace. "They've never known how I really felt." He smiled sadly. "Unlike you, Sasuke, I try to be happy, even when there is nothing to be happy about. I try to be friendly and smile and act like the bumbling, reckless jokester everyone expects me to be. They only want to see my troubles resolved on the battlefield." He stopped, standing before the Uchiha.

Naruto still couldn't read the expression on Sasuke's face, but as his former teammate hadn't turned away, scoffed, or disregarded him in any way the blonde had to hope that his friend understood. Given Sasuke's state of physical and spiritual health, coupled by the Uchiha's already aloof and emotionless demeanor, Naruto found it difficult to discern anything from the other. It was as if Sasuke was still facing the opposite wall of his cell and hadn't climbed out of his cot at all.

"You're the only one I ever really talk to, Sasuke. You and Iruka. Not Sakura-chan, not eve…" Naruto stopped himself, sudden realization causing his eyes to grow wide.

"What is it?" Sasuke asked, the guttural pitch of his voice revealing curiosity that his face simply would not.

"You're right," Naruto voiced, "It wasn't Iruka-sensei." He looked to Sasuke, not knowing whether to smile or frown or how Sasuke would respond to either expression. So his lips quivered in ambiguity. "Iruka-sensei had help."

"What do you mean?"

"He told Kakashi-sensei," Naruto said earnestly. "He…he was there, in the classroom, when I came asking for Iruka-sensei's help. It would make sense too. He's the Hokage now. He'd have all the authority in the world to discipline the guards or replace them entirely." Naruto gave a toothy grin. "Iruka-sensei told Kakashi-sensei."

Naruto waited for Sasuke to respond, but he did not. In fact, he turned away, before throwing a toneless comment over his shoulder.

"Mmm…I wasn't aware the two of them were on speaking terms," he replied, sulking away.

"A lot has changed, since you've been gone, Sasuke," Naruto lamented. "I'm telling you, it was Kakashi-sensei. There's no other explanation. Only the Hokage could have helped you, and since you're his former student…Iruka-sensei must have come to him, I'm sure. No," Naruto pinched his chin, "I had a feeling he would. I wanted to go to Kakashi-sensei, thought that I should have, but I didn't know how he'd respond. Iruka-sensei must have known that he would help you."

"That man would never help me," Sasuke stated coldly. Naruto could not see Sasuke's face, but the force of his voice reverberated through his cell with rippling contempt. It echoed down the hall and into the deathly darkness beyond, mingling with the mad chants of neighboring, high-security, prisoners not but a few cells down.

Sasuke's shoulders and arms moved, but Naruto couldn't fathom why. He didn't recall seeing Sasuke holding anything, but it looked like he was rolling something in his hands, like a nervous twitch Naruto could not recall Sasuke having.

"He would help you."

"Why?" Sasuke turned sharply, anger chiseled into his stark pale features. "Because of all the people he tried to stop me from killing by trying to kill me or because I tried to kill him? Iruka-sensei too," Sasuke muttered, his stare fixated on the dark abyss beyond Naruto's face. "I tried to kill him…stabbed him straight through with the Chidori. I watched him bleed and collapse at my feet." Naruto stumbled back after Sasuke rushed the bars, the harsh slam of his fists ringing in Naruto's ears. "I can't imagine why they would want to help me!"

"I would help you," Naruto said quickly.

"I don't want your help," Sasuke scowled.

Naruto regained his footing, clutching at the same bars, and felt the icy chill emanating from Sasuke's skin. "You may not want it but, Sasuke, don't you need it?" Naruto urged, desperation taking hold of him.

"Time's up!"

Naruto looked back frantically, at the sound of the prison guard's voice. They appeared in one swift jutsu, and Naruto saw their crisp grey uniform, their pocketed weaponry, their black sandals, all but their face shrouded in the darkness of the dead-end chamber.

"There is no time limit," Naruto snapped. He was prepared to debate this fact, unwilling to believe in any restrictions on his visit. As far as he was concerned, the guards could bar him from entering Sasuke's cell, not that he had tried. Until now, he hadn't seen the point. Sasuke hadn't spoken, moved or given any other indicator that he was a great risk to anyone. Every now and then, the thought of taking Sasuke by the shoulders and shaking him until he had no other choice but to react, violently or otherwise, crossed his mind. Still, Naruto wanted to respect the personal space he believed Sasuke desired.

"I've been coming here, for weeks now, and I've always stayed for as long as wanted."

"That was before," the guard said, their tone strict but not forceful. He was nothing like the guards Naruto had grown accustom to, in fact. Not once had they shoved Naruto to force him in the direction they wanted him to go or referred to Sasuke as 'Uchiha filth'. Naruto should have known the guards had been replaced or, at least, one had been replaced. "Due to the unusual circumstances of certain prisoners' wellbeing and the insistence of new guards in this ward, a decree has been made by the Rokudaime to reinforce the time limitations set for prison visitors. In order to control prolonged exposure, of the prisoner to the visitor and vice versa, both parties are allotted five hours of visitation. It's safer this way," the guard added softly.

Naruto practically ground his teeth. "This is bullcrap," he said. "This will just make it easier for you all to torture him and starve him to death!"

"I assure you, this is no longer the case," the guard cut in calmly. "Any such actions made by one of our staff will be met with swift discipline. Prisoner brutality, no matter the prisoner, will not be tolerated." They bowed and quickly straightened up. "Uzumaki Naruto, your time is up. Please collect your possessions and proceed to the check-in station."

Naruto brought no possessions but himself and the clothes on his back. He looked to Sasuke, hopelessly, but deemed his friend and former teammate uninterested in arguing his stay. Annoyed, Naruto kicked the stool at his feet, but the small stump of furniture proved to be sturdy wood. It hardly moved an inch in comparison to the immense amount of pain now throbbing in his big toe.

"The prisoner is due to receive his first meal of the day, if this knowledge in any way relieves you," the guard said.

Naruto looked up from a spot on the ground where he'd chosen to focus all his frustration. "It does," he relented to say. "Thanks."

He turned to Sasuke, but the other beat him to words. "Don't even think about saying you'll be back."

"I will," Naruto said, never once left having not said that he would return. "I'll come back tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, and the next day, until you realize that you deserve a second chance."

"Leave," Sasuke barked, turning away.

"I'll escort you out, Uzumaki-san."

Naruto had no other choice but to follow the guard. He didn't know what he might have said or how he might have responded to this new decree, had it been one of the guards previously assigned to Sasuke's ward. As it was, this guard had gone far beyond the required amount of consideration. Not once did they address Sasuke, the prisoner, directly, and they respected Naruto's desires enough not to belittle them despite their higher authority. It was professional, almost indulging, compared to the shady guards from before.

Naruto looked back one last time, hoping to see Sasuke watch him go, but the Uchiha had already returned to his cot by the time he reached the exit of the chamber unit.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed ^_^


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi guides Take through his first lesson as Take learns he's got a lot to learn from the Hokage. After which, Kakashi pursues a plan to get back on Iruka's good side only to discover an unexpected development.

Kakashi waited, perched in a tree, scanning the fields with one lazy but efficient grey orb. He thought consistently of how fine the day was for training as he rifled through the pages of Jiraiya's greatest work of Icha Icha. Despite the current onslaught of weather irregularities, midday provided a clear blue sky accompanied by a gentle, southern breeze. What perfect weather, he thought, for target practice. A weapon could cut through the air, undisturbed, and hit the intended target without much displacement. True, the challenge would have made for better practice, but he didn't want to get ahead of himself. It was Kakashi's hope that the weather didn't make too drastic a change, however, before each training session ran its course.

The jonin had started the series over again, beginning with Icha Icha Paradise. Now, this was obviously Jiraiya's first novel, considering the substantial amount of mediocrity lining every page. The sentences were long and wordy, the descriptions flowery, the plot predictable, and some of the…positions, of particularly heated scenes, defied all physics and logic and human capability. Still, if anyone was a fan of such blatant romanticism and melodrama, it was the Sharingan-wielding Copy Nin.

Any moment now, he expected to see a small figure approach from off the fields, but none had arrived, thus far. He did have his book, however, and Kakashi had long ago acknowledged what a great distraction it could be.

"Mm," Kakashi mumbled, turning another page. The restless protagonist, Hiro, managed to wander into another sticky situation. The object of his affections, a voluptuous brunette, had entered a very lavish restaurant known for its crime boss clientele. Having followed her in and confessed his undying love for her, Hiro was now on the run from Tsutomu Miyazaki, the head leader of a merciless band of swordsmen who just so happened to also be the woman's husband.

"I'm here."

"Mm?"

Kakashi looked down, finding the person he'd been waiting for staring back up at him. He heaved a great sigh, snapping his book shut. With not another second to waste, he jumped down. The jonin landed beside the new arrival, whose height was so insignificant that it still left them staring up at him.

"Maa…I was starting to think you wouldn't show," Kakashi murmured. He watched the other watch him stash his book into the back pocket of his uniform.

"I wasn't going to," Take stated testily, still eyeing the jonin with great suspicion, "but I changed my mind."

"What made you change your mind?" Kakashi asked.

Take avoided the question, looked the man up and down and realizing a drastic change in the Hokage's wardrobe. "What happened to your clothes?" The boy pointed to Kakashi's face. "What happened to your eye-patch?"

"Ne…" Kakashi looked away, scratching his scalp. "Wearing Hokage clothes is such a hassle, when training," he supplied.

Truthfully, Kakashi couldn't wait for an excuse not to wear them. Lounging in a tree and reading his favorite novel while wearing his well-worn, standard uniform, complete with bloodstains and various other wear and tear marks, suited him well enough. He'd risen from Iruka's couch opting to slip on his hitai-ate rather than his eye-patch and marveled at the familiarity he felt with its worn and battered state. He stood in Iruka's bathroom, for minutes on end, staring into the mirror above his sink, adjusting and readjusting the headband to suit the requirements of his permanently bed-ridden hair. He thought of how amusing it would have been to watch Iruka barge in and force him out, had Iruka been there when Kakashi woke up that morning.

"Tch…It doesn't look like you've been doing any training at all," Take sneered, crossing his arms and glaring up at him, still.

Kakashi gave a cheeky-eyed grin and reached out, ruffling Take's silver tufts with mild force. "That's because I was waiting for you, Bamboo Boy."

"I told you not to call me that!" Take scowled, swatting him away. Kakashi watched Take thoughtfully, as the boy stewed in his own foul mood. "That's it. I knew I shouldn't have come," he huffed, marching away.

"Nonsense." Kakashi pulled him back by the collar of his shirt. "We haven't even started."

Take pulled himself from Kakashi's hold. "Then can we, now?" He asked, agitated. He pulled violently at his collar, tugging it back in place.

Kakashi put his hands in his pockets, still watching the boy, and Take looked away, flustered, obviously uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze.

"It's a weekend," Kakashi shrugged, scanning the fields around them. "I think we have all the time in the world. You don't have class," he commented, pointedly, to gauge Take's contempt, "and the weather's good today," he hummed, staring up at the sky. "So long as you return home at a decent hour, what's the rush?"

"I don't like you," Take sneered.

"So you've established before." Kakashi looked down, his eye beaming. "I still have no idea why. Care to explain?"

"I'm showing up for classes… I showed up here. Are you going to teach me anything or not?"

They stared at each other, in another stand-off, and Kakashi figured it wouldn't be their last. Mere interaction with Take set the boy off, for reasons Kakashi didn't particularly care to delve into. What interested him more was the power he witnessed, first hand, as it had expelled itself from a pre-genin's body. Kakashi knew that, even at such a young age, Take's capabilities would become an endless asset to the village.

"Alright then," Kakashi sighed, relenting to Take's demand, but he was certain Take didn't fully understand all that he was getting into. He turned his back to the boy, staring off into the nearby forest.

Take smirked, eager for whatever Kakashi had to teach him. He figured the Hokage didn't become leader of a whole village for absolutely no reason. Despite what he knew of the unabashed jonin, he doubted training with the man would be time wasted.

"Maa, you like to play games," Kakashi uttered over his shoulder. "I like games."

"You don't know what I like," Take snapped.

"Not everything, maybe," Kakashi reasoned, "but actions speak louder than words and, whether you like it or not, I've gathered enough about you to know that you like to play games."

Take's hands balled into fists.

"The element of surprise…that's something you appreciate, which is why you climbed the classroom walls when no one was looking." Kakashi looked over his shoulder, watching the boy in the corner of his eye. "You didn't want to participate in the chakra exercise not because of your partner, but because you were already aware of what you're capable of," Kakashi paused. "Not fully, of course, but you've done it before. After you threw Tsuki across the classroom, the look on your face told me that much."

"Your point being?" Take stated coolly, holding his arms across the chest of his small frame.

Kakashi's half-lidded gaze grew unyielding. "You kept that a secret," he hummed. "I bet you haven't even told Iruka-sensei. You know what you're capable of and, yet, you say nothing—not even to show off, which tells me you're not out to prove that you're better than your peers. I think you're capable of much more, however."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"You bite your bottom lip when you're angry."

"What?"

Kakashi looked away.

"I said you bite your bottom lip when you're angry. It's a subconscious habit of yours, a bad one for anyone meaning to become shinobi. Any display of emotion, no matter how small, will reveal your true intent to the enemy. A shinobi's face is vulnerable, yes, but most treacherous, so you must both protect it and watch it at all times."

"Is that why you wear a mask?" Kakashi turned around, saying nothing, and those few seconds of unbearable silence left Take relatively subdued. He looked down at the short patches of grass beneath them.

"You enjoy the element of surprise," Kakashi started again. "It's amusing to you. It is also a tactic rarely used well and, in your case, can be fatal. Because when you're mad, like you are now, and you allow your emotions to blind you, you get sloppy. Like when you came at me with a kunai…" Kakashi shrugged. "That was a failure. This uncontrollable anger of yours is only going to slow you down."

Take's eyes narrowed.

"You remember a few days ago, by the docks?" Kakashi droned on, "Ma…of course you do. I don't think I need to remind you of what happened to make my point clear."

"I'm still waiting to hear what the point is, you perv," Take seethed.

The jonin watched the rapid clenching and unclenching of Take's fists with disdain. "You need to begin clearing your mind of everything, of all emotion, the positive and the negative. You might one day find yourself assigned to a team, alongside people you may despise but, for the success of the mission, you must put those feelings aside. Focus on what you see and what you hear, not what you feel."

All motion in Take's hands ceased.

"When you control yourself, you control the opponent."

"I am in control," Take stated evenly. The boy's face was void of all emotion, expressionless, even to the anger still radiating as forcefully as his chakra signature.

"Good," Kakashi said, although, he felt obligated to agree. He turned once again, with his back to Take. "When you fight, you'll most likely choose a strong stealth approach. That is more traditional to our profession. It's easily forgotten, these days. The Academy does very little to compensate for the loss. I'm sure you're already aware of the techniques, but the three key terms to keep in mind are ninjutsu, genjustu, and taijutsu. The ninjutsu, for manipulation techniques, genjustu, for illusions, and taijutsu, for physical attacks. You will most likely rely on genjustu, but I expect you to excel in all three."

"Why do you think I'll rely on genjutsu?" Take asked, consciously subduing his more aggressive tone.

"Because you like to play games to outwit the enemy." Kakashi dug his heels into the ground. "The element of surprise and genjutsu will help you utilize your ninjutsu, which I think will be your strongest suit."

"Right," Take said. Kakashi heard skepticism but little anger. He could tell Take would be a fast learner, eager to prove him wrong every step of the way.

"Today we're going to focus on taijutsu, from what I've experienced firsthand, your weakest technique. Questions? Protests?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" Kakashi asked dryly, looking over his shoulder one last time. "Can you think of any other reason why I would begin your training with taijutsu?"

"I'm not an idiot," Take huffed. "The stronger my taijutsu, the better control I have on my chakra. The better control I have over my chakra, the stronger my ninjutsu and genjutsu will be. You can't be good at just one. Each technique helps to support the other."

"Exactly." Kakashi reached for his book, aware of Take's grunts of disgust. "Now, here's where we'll begin," he murmured, flipping to the last page he'd been reading, "focused on agility and endurance, two very important aspects of taijutsu. In the end, it always comes down to whose strength lasts longer. There can be no benefit from outsmarting your opponent, if you can't even outrun them. Listen to me, very carefully," the jonin mumbled into his book.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," Take remarked, crossly. "I've only been listening to you go on and on for what seems like…" the boy blinked, "…forever," and finished.

The Hokage disappeared.

Take stared blankly, at that empty space where the Hokage used to be.

"Kakashi-sama?" Take turned around and saw nothing but a landscape of training fields surrounding him. "Hey! Pervy Scarecrow!" he called out, cupping his mouth with the palms of his hands, but it was to no avail. There were no signs of the Hokage ever being there, not even a footprint left on the ground. "What the hell…?"

Take's head whipped around, searching the fields frantically. He heard twigs snap and birds chirp in the distance. The wind picked up, taking tree branches and fallen leaves along with it. Then he heard something, a faint ringing emit from the eastern outskirts. The Hokage, however, was still nowhere to be seen.

"Damn it!" Take cursed, taking a defensive stance. "I should have known you'd play tricks on me!" he shouted, hearing his own voice echo across the empty fields. Frustrated, Take pulled a kunai from his pant pocket. It was his only possession. He recently found it, in the forest, when a four-man squad returned from a mission. They flew out from the trees, above his head, and that's when it fell right at his feet. With not a moment's hesitation, Take picked up the weapon and ran, fearing that a member of the team would soon realize what they'd dropped and come back looking for it.

Take had taken good care of the weapon, ever since, making sure to sharpen and polish it whenever possible. He treated it with as much care as he treated his last kunai that had been, Take recalled angrily, taken from him by the same man who just now had deserted him.

Staring at it, as it shined in the relentless sun, reminded Take of how much he enjoyed owning that last kunai. Unlike this one, the other kunai had intricate designs carved into the blade and a handle made of wood and wrapped in leather, not ripped cloth. He cherished that other kunai and admired it whenever possible, which had not been often.

Iruka-sensei didn't allow them to carry weapons inside the classroom, so Take always kept it pocketed at the Academy. He didn't even take it out during breaks, for fear that Iruka-sensei would appear from thin air, take it away, and scold him for having it. He truly believed that his sensei had eyes everywhere, and so did everything in his power to obey Iruka-sensei's rules. He didn't want to upset Iruka, especially since his fondest memories revolved around the Academy instructor visiting him on a regular basis, treating him to meals and outings. Iruka-sensei spent more time with him than any of the other kids, and Take didn't want that to change.

That's why he'd been so hesitant to agree to this, in the first place. Take frowned at the thought. He hated to think of what Iruka-sensei would do, if he knew that he was taking private lessons from the Hokage. Would he be angry? Take wasn't sure but, with how secretive Kakashi-sama was about the whole thing, he guessed that, maybe, this was something the other man would certainly disagree with.

"You're gonna get me into trouble and all for nothing!" he spat out, addressing nothing but sky. "You took my kunai, and now you're going to get me into trouble," he murmured this time, his hand gripping the kunai even tighter. The memory of a few weeks ago resurfaced in vivid detail. He could see the faces of his peers ogling as the Hokage held him against Iruka's desk. A sea of timid gazes and reproachful stares watched as the Hokage restrained him, held his own kunai up against his throat, and embarrassed him in front of the whole class.

It was more than Take could bear.

"Well, screw you!" Take shouted, shoving his kunai back into his pocket. "I'm tired of playing your games." He heard a distant jingle again and whirled around. Take peered into the maze of trees and shrubs on the edge of the field, quick to pinpoint where that annoying ringing was coming from. It sounded almost like…bells.

_'Listen to me, very carefully.'_

Take sped off, in the direction of that sound. He could keep track of it, more distinct than before. He took a brief glance back, to where he found his supposed trainer lounging in a tree, but not because he expected to see anything different. Iruka-sensei had once taught them about distance tracking, making note of where you started before going after the enemy. It also helped to indicate distance of sound, which seemed to be the only thing Take was meant to focus on. Just having breached through a few clusters of trees, he could gather that the noise had come from not but a little farther from where he was now. Take smirked to himself, speeding onward. He heard the ringing again, now a jingle to his ears. It was egging him along, as though this was nothing more than a game of 'Hide and Seek'.

"Unbelievable," Take murmured, shaking his head. A grown man, the leader of their country no less, treated this like some child's play. Was this really what he signed up for?

Did it really matter?

After all, Take was playing along.

_'Maa, you like to play games. I like games.'_

Take liked to win more. With that in mind, he kept running, every now and then kicking off a tree stump or a large boulder to give him more momentum. He wasn't yet skilled in the art of chakra-induced flash-stepping. Sure, he proved that he could distribute his chakra enough to hold himself against a solid surface, but, had the object of the lesson been to learn how to chase an enemy or keep up with a team, Take would have fallen short of impressive.

_'There can be no benefit from outsmarting your opponent, if you can't even outrun them.'_

Take could run fast, faster than anyone in his class. Iruka-sensei always said it was his greatest strength, although he never said how his greatest strength could be best used.

_'The ninjutsu, for manipulation techniques, genjustu for illusions, and taijutsu for physical attacks. You will most likely rely on genjustu, but I expect you to excel in all three.'_

Take heard another jingle, to his right, so he pushed off against a nearby tree and rushed towards the new direction. Every now and then, other sounds would take his attention: the rustle of leaves, the breaking of branches…they were distinct, outstanding sounds. They couldn't possibly be sounds made by accident, like the sounds a roving animal might make. They were made purposely, to throw him off track.

"Nice try," he muttered, looking straight ahead. He heard another jingle come from the left and so made another sharp turn.

Every few seconds, another misleading sound would resound from the right of him, the left of him and, sometimes, behind him even. A few times, he was forced to dodge, lest he be hit by an object hurtling towards him, at speeds his eyes couldn't keep track of. It was only when he felt a gooey, wet substance dripping down his cheek did he realize that some small weapon had whizzed by and sliced open his cheek.

"You bastard!" he yelled out, rubbing angrily at his cheek. It stung. The perpetrator retaliated to his cry, sending an array of weapons his way. Take continued to run, however, dodging trees and weapons alike. He pushed off another stump and caught sight of a shuriken as it flew by his head and embedded itself into the bark. He flipped and changed his direction, as the jingles now drifted from the right. To his satisfaction, they were getting louder and more pronounced.

He could hear water. Take could think of only one body of water remotely close to the area, and that was the river. He set off in its direction, as the distant jingle coincided with the water rushing downstream.

The dense forest was reaching its end, and he could see another clearing not too far away. Take knew this area of Konoha better than any other kid he knew. They were all scaredy-cats, cowards that wouldn't dare go so far into the forest for fear that they wouldn't be able to find their way out. Take even set traps, a few trip wires and false steps that were modeled after a few he found already set up in parts of the area. He never saw anyone in the forest long enough to know who set the original traps, but Take made sure to imitate their sophistication. Now when others unfamiliar with the land wandered in, Take could catch them, unawares, and take whatever fell behind.

Take kept vigilant, as the Hokage's tricks evolved. The young boy was saw figures all around him, all the same height and same build as the Hokage. They traveled in intervals, throwing weapons whenever they could, before switching off. "Damn it!" Take cursed, forced to slow down in order to avoid being hit. Still, there was only one shadow equipped with that jingle, so Take never once lost sight of what he was after.

He was so close, he could feel it. There was a clear opening, just a few meters away, and he rushed towards it with full force. He reached out, certain that the culprit was just ahead of him. That's when he saw it, the sunlight bouncing off of two bells that hovered ahead of him.

"Gotcha!" He leaped out and grabbed for them only to snatch nothing but air. "What the…?" Take ducked, missing a bodily attack by a hair's length. He rolled over, dodging another swing. It was a well-planned maneuver, he thought, considering the low kick that was aimed to trip him over. He managed to jump away and land on his feet, knees bent, with his hand clawing at the ground.

He looked up to find the Hokage standing before him, two bells dangling from his fingertips. His other hand dutifully pinched his novel between his thumb and index finger, a book Take had no doubt resembled the one Kakashi-sama had been reading in their class, both in content and tastelessness. What annoyed Take the most, as he stood from his crouched position, was the fact that the Hokage showed no indication of having attacked him at all. The jonin appeared relaxed, with one leg crossed over the other, as though he'd been waiting for him to arrive the entire time.

"You're fast," Take exhaled, catching his breath.

"You're pretty fast, yourself," Kakashi said, crossing his arms. "Were you not so distracted, you might have caught me."

"I was not distracted!" Take snapped, brushing himself off. "Besides, you set me up to be distracted. You set out clones and weapons."

"You think an opponent would lead you along without a few tricks of their own up his sleeve?"

Take refused to respond, the answer being too blatantly obvious.

"Remember this as your first lesson: you're not the only one out there who is eager to play games."

Kakashi unfolded his arms, stashing his Icha Icha into his back pocket once more.

"Come on," he said, strolling away. Take eyed the man, distrustfully, before following along.

Take had heard correctly – the river lie not but a few feet away. He fell into step behind the Hokage as the man led them across a sturdy bridge that arched over the water. Take looked over the side, staring at his reflection. It rippled away when a fished poked its head out and disturbed the surface.

"Where are we going?" Take ordered more than asked.

"You'll see," was the Hokage's reply. He didn't even turn back to look at him.

"I thought you said we were going to train in taijutsu, today." Take frowned, glaring at the back of Kakashi's head.

"We are," said Kakashi.

"So," Take shrugged, "when are we going to fight?"

"Ne…there's no point in you fighting me just yet. My skill being far superior to yours, it would only do more harm than good. The handicap is far too great to be considered a lesson worth teaching."

"Is that right?" Take scowled, wanting nothing more than the opportunity to prove the Hokage wrong.

"It's not right," Kakashi murmured. "It's fact. I agreed to teach you, not to harm you."

"And this isn't harming me?" Take bellowed, pointing at his bloody cheek.

Eventually, Kakashi turned back to see what it was the boy was referring to. There, on his right cheek, was a shallow gash crusted over with dry blood. Kakashi kept his lazy gaze honed in on it, dismissively, considering he could think of a thousand other injuries more fatal than the mere abrasion.

"That's not harm. That's growth," Kakashi shrugged, turning back and walking away. "The more training you complete, the stronger you'll become. The stronger you become, the more interesting you'll get."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"…It means I'll want to fight you," the jonin put simply.

Their trek was relatively short in comparison to the long afternoon ahead of them. The Hokage and his, arguably, reluctant student traveled down an open trail, passing by acres of farmland. Take presumed that this was all part of the training, labeled under "endurance", and so kept his mouth shut. He kept in stride with the Hokage, staring up at him thoughtfully, but the man said nothing, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

"Where's Iruka-sensei?" Take asked, watching the Hokage intently.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Kakashi replied.

Take looked to his feet and their respective progression. "Does Iruka-sensei work for you?"

"I'm the Hokage," Kakashi drawled. "Everyone works for me."

"Does Iruka-sensei work with you?"

Kakashi looked down, watching the boy with some consideration. "Iruka-sensei helps me," he said, glancing off into the distance.

Their destination was not too far off now, just on the other end of the marketplace. The marketplace itself stood a few miles north of where they were.

"Iruka-sensei is probably at the office, as we speak," Kakashi said, not entirely certain that this was true. As he recalled and once more with inescapable curiosity, the chunin had been nowhere to be found when Kakashi woke up that morning. His ninken had been unfairly dismissive about this fact, as well, stating that it was "None of his business" to know where Iruka-sensei went.

"What does he do there?" Take asked.

"He does paperwork, mostly," Kakashi sighed, looking towards the boy. "He files paperwork and takes notifications. When another village sends out a messenger, he receives their business."

"Isn't that what a Hokage is for?"

"Eh?" Kakashi scratched the back of his head, addressing the boy with an uneasy stare. "Not every Hokage is willing to deal with the…paperwork," the bureaucracy, or the political stigma attached to the position, like an infecting lesion. "A Kage's role, first and foremost, is to preside over a village and keep it safe. Besides, Iruka-sensei does well at sorting out that other stuff." Kakashi thought back to all those hours spent lying on Iruka's couch, watching as the chunin sat at his desk and eagerly hummed his way through a stack of papers. "I think he enjoys it a lot more, as well," Kakashi could tell, no matter how much Iruka complained about having to pick up his slack.

"You don't enjoy it?" Take asked.

"I'm more of a field expert," Kakashi replied vaguely, growing weary of answering questions.

"Then why did you become Hokage?" Take spat, as though the mere title offended him.

Kakashi hunched forward, reaching into his pockets. The two walked a bit farther, but in silence. Every now and then, Kakashi found his eye wandering downwards, watching Take with fleeting stares of uncertainty. Take was staring at the ground, with his hands shoved into his pockets as well. He was wearing the same worn, dirt-ridden clothes as a few days before. Not that it took a brilliant mind, but years spent on a day-to-day basis with a young Naruto made it easier for Kakashi to tell when a young boy hadn't bathed regularly, let alone changed his clothes. Considering how the same shirt and pants hung on his shoulders, barely outlining his waist, Kakashi could tell that Take didn't eat much either. Or maybe, the jonin frowned, he couldn't.

"I didn't have a choice," he answered, catching Take's eyes.

"What do you mean you didn't have a choice?" Take sneered, "You either wanted to be or didn't want to be. Yes or no. How hard is that?"

"It's complicated," Kakashi said.

"How so?"

The Hokage paused, standing in the middle of the road, and Take stopped beside him.

"When the country hands you a responsibility, it is not something that can be easily dismissed. You do what is demanded of you, because it has to be done." Kakashi looked the boy up and down, aware that he had Take's undivided attention. He truly was working out to be a good listener. "Do you understand?"

Take crossed his arms and walked away.

"Tch," he scoffed. "I didn't think being a Kage was that great, anyway."

"Mm…really?" One step forward and Kakashi's footsteps were in sync with Take's again. "How do you figure?"

"Kages kill people." Kakashi's steps halted again, but Take kept going. The jonin watched him go, momentarily startled.

"Stop."

"Why?" Take turned.

Kakashi tilted his head towards the right. "We're here."

Take looked to his left, seeing nothing but a field of golden-bronze. In fact, the silky strands blowing in the wind existed on both sides of the trail. In the distance stood a series of buildings, many well-known complexes that remained standing for ages, on the northeast region of Konoha. Take never had any reason to venture around this side of the village.

"Here? What's here? It's a crop field," Take scowled, weary of the unfamiliar fields and the unknown housing structures.

"It should be a crop field," Kakashi murmured, his gaze grazing the land idly. "I don't remember it ever being anything else." He reached up, with his palm faced outward, motioning for Take to step off the trail. "Head out towards the center of the field. That's where your practice will begin and end."

Take looked skeptic. "Are you kidding? We can't train on a crop field."

"It's fine," Kakashi said firmly. "Now go." Reluctantly, Take marched off, leaving Kakashi to stroll behind. He briefly thought back to what the boy had said and disregarded it as naivety.

'Kages kill people,' Kakashi repeated mentally, as though Kages were an entirely different species. People killed people. They lived in a shinobi village, where a little over a couple thousand were trained to kill at any given opportunity. There was no reason for Kakashi to feel disgruntled over Take's words. Death was a part of being a Kage—killing was not a privilege but a necessity. Kakashi knew this to be true, learned it firsthand. Hearing the cold, hard fact from a pre-genin should not have surprised him so.

Still a lingering chill managed to brush up against the nape of his neck, forcing the fine short silver strands of hair there to stand on end.

Take turned, his hands gripping his waist. "What the hell is this?"

"Ma…"

Kakashi stretched out his arms and held his hands at the back of his head, staring at the figure perched in the center of the field. It was stiff and lifeless but obviously modeled to look as human as could be. Donning hair of straw that stood on end, a thick branch for a spine, with lines of black wool knitted into its patchy face, it stood a good two meters off the ground, supported, from the ground up, by a thick plank of wood.

"It's a scarecrow," Kakashi remarked, although he thought that was obvious.

"I know what it is," Take chided. "I mean why?" Take stepped closer, staring at the figure with a glare that could rival any one of which he gifted Kakashi. "Is it wearing your clothes?"

Indeed. The scarecrow wore Kakashi's Hokage robes, his pants, his shirt wrap, his shin guards, and his eye-patch, along with an assortment of red and white targets that had been pinned on to where specific parts of the body would have existed. It was fashioned to look like an exact copy of the Rokudaime, in build and accessories. Kakashi even gave it a makeshift body suit and mask to cover the lower half of its face.

Take turned to Kakashi, disgruntled. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"This scarecrow will act as your sparring partner, for the foundation of your training. Then, if and when I feel you have progressed in some way, you will spar with me," Kakashi said, approaching to stand before the scarecrow. The resemblance was uncanny, with the scarecrow's slight height advantage a clear exception, coupled with its misfortune of being made entirely out of twigs and straw. "These targets," Kakashi continued, pointing at one of several medium-sized circles that littered his doppelganger, "will serve as marks to perfect your aim. When I feel you have succeeded in a particular move, you'll move on to another one. Got it?"

Take agreed without a word, eyeing the scarecrow uneasily.

"I thought a practice dummy resembling myself would prove an efficient…motivator," Kakashi explained.

"Right," Take nodded.

Kakashi beamed with his one visible eye. "The warm-up exercises they have you do at the Academy."

"What about them?"

"You'll warm-up first," Kakashi said, "starting with a mile run."

"What, here?"

"Yes, here…"

Kakashi scanned the area, noting the perfectly four-pointed corners on either side of the trail. He knew the area well, down to the small markings on the stone wall that had served as indicators some time ago.

"Take the right field. Four times around should equal a mile. Head back to the trail and start your run."

Take nodded, racing back towards the trail. Kakashi kept his eye on him, all the while spotting the nearest tree to use as a post. He did have an Icha Icha series to get through, and the first novel of the series wasn't going to finish reading itself.

Take went about completing his warm-up, which consisted of a run and a few in-place exercises. Iruka-sensei made them do this whenever they went outside for target practice.

Kakashi knew these exercises to be standard issue for all pre-genin. He kept a keen eye on Take's progress, making sure that the boy performed each exercise with accuracy. It was necessary to know whether or not Take learned things in the correct manner or simply performed them because it was asked of him. These things were vital to the training process, as Take's participation was still something of an oddity to him.

 

"Again," Kakashi called out.

Take took another shot at the scarecrow, swinging a kick at its shoulder blade.

"Again," Kakashi bellowed, and Take repeated the movement.

Kakashi demonstrated a few moves, using them against his scarecrow replica, before returning to his post. Take watched him, intently, and, with another nod, went about performing them in sequence.

"Again," the Hokage said, and the boy didn't miss a beat. He was focused, with a determination Kakashi hadn't seen in someone so young since…himself. The day wore on and, by late afternoon, Take's movements had grown weaker, with each attack slower than the next. Kakashi looked over the top of his book, watching and listening intently as Take's fists and feet made impact with his scarecrow. The jonin was near the end of the first book, already. Not that Jiraiya was one to write lengthy novels, to begin with. His cut and dry prose made the Icha Icha series a fast read, especially for an avid fan who had already read the books more times than it was probably necessary to count.

Kakashi put it away.

Take gripped his knees and hunched over himself with exhaustion. He breathed deeply but kept his gaze upward, glaring relentlessly at his inanimate sparring partner. The whole time he thought of the scarecrow as the Hokage, just as Kakashi-sama had intended. Knowing full well that it was nothing more than a bunch of straw draped in Hokage clothes, Take continued to think of it as the real Hokage and, for that, his attacks were a lot stronger. He collected and re-positioned himself, forming a quick combination of the same three moves to exact on the same three targets on the left side of the scarecrow's body: the pectoral girdle, the pelvis, and the patella.

"Gyahh!" Take yelled out, aiming for the collar bone. However, in his worn out state, his coordination skills had drastically diminished. Unable to stop himself, he accidentally took a swung at the scarecrow's face.

"I think we can call it a day, now," Kakashi said, coming up from behind. He caught Take's wrist and set the boy down, before he could ruin his scarecrow's flawlessly knitted features. Take fell to the ground but quickly got back up, charging the scarecrow. "I said cool it."

"Again!" Take growled, taking another swing.

"No. Not again. You're done." Kakashi held him back with one gloved hand. Take fought against him a little while longer before, eventually, settling down. "Come on," Kakashi said, guiding him over to the tree.

Take shrugged him off and walked away, leaving Kakashi to follow behind. The Hokage wouldn't admit to not yet getting a clear understanding of what the boy was all about, but he felt a bit of prying couldn't hurt.

_'I thought you said you didn't care.'_

Kakashi immediately caught his own thoughts and quickly reminded himself that he could care less what Take was all about. Regardless, there was the chunin standing before him, doing little to conceal his disbelief. Kakashi couldn't bring himself to look beyond that face, the fond consideration Iruka reserved for him.

_'You're not as bad as you think you are, Kakashi-san.'_

The jonin stood over Take now and watched as the boy collapsed against the base of a tree with thick roots.

"Mm…you good?" Kakashi asked.

Take grunted a response.

"You did well," Kakashi added, but Take looked up, his eyes wide and piercing, and said nothing. He pulled his legs up, resting his arms against his knees. "I took a good look at that scarecrow," the jonin continued, reaching back to rub the nape of his neck. "Ne…you really did a number on him, didn't you?"

"I did what you told me to do. The better I get, the faster you'll teach me something good, right?" he sneered, but his voice lacked its usual biting tone. He was too exhausted to be a snobby brat, Kakashi gathered. That was just fine with him.

"Earlier, you said you almost didn't show up."

"Yeah," Take breathed.

Kakashi turned, pressing up against the trunk. "What made you change your mind?"

"It's not a 'what'. It's a 'who'," Take clarified.

"Who then," Kakashi said.

Take looked up, his hazel orbs pressed up against his eyelids.

"Iruka-sensei convinced me to come," he exhaled. Kakashi pushed himself up, his eye bulging, but Take shook his head and added quickly, "It's not what you think."

Take watched the Hokage sigh and slowly close his eye, relax, and fall back against the tree. Now he seriously wondered what kind of trouble he'd be in if Iruka found out about any of this.

"He came by the Academy, the other day. I asked him about you."

"And what did he say?" Kakashi asked, although, he was hesitant to know.

"He said that…you're one of the greatest shinobi of our time. He said that you're brilliant," Take exhaled deeply, his eyes falling to the ground. "He said that you were vital to ending the war and that the violence ended partly because of you."

Kakashi's eyes went wide, even his Sharingan one.

"You seem very secretive about our training meetings, Hokage."

"That's because they are secretive," Kakashi said, his mind fixated on Take's last words.

_'He said that you're brilliant…you were vital to ending the war and that the violence ended, partly because of you.'_

"So no one can know, huh?" asked Take.

Kakashi eyed Take wearily. "Is there anyone in particular you wanted to tell?"

"No," Take said sharply. "I just want to know why Iruka-sensei knowing scares you."

"It doesn't." The two glared at each other, with Kakashi relenting first. He refused to encourage these stand-offs any longer, especially since Take seemed to always have the upper hand. He was the Hokage, for goodness sake, accused of being scared of an Academy sensei. Kakashi had never heard something so far-fetched. "Telling Iruka-sensei would be a very bad idea, is all."

"Really…?"

"Yes. He's concerned for all his students, but he seems most protective of you. If he finds out, these training sessions cannot continue."

"Why not?"

"They just can't."

Take glared at him, unsatisfied with the answer. Kakashi didn't feel all that obligated to elaborate, however.

He gave the boy a few more minutes to collect himself, focusing on his erratic breathing. It evened out at a measured pace, which was a positive indicator. With no water and little rest in between, Take had recuperated at a relatively fast rate. Kakashi looked towards the setting sun now but remained concentrated on his young charge. The sky was transitioning from a clear blue to a cloudy, pinkish-orange hue. The wind had picked up with speed. Kakashi couldn't recall the last time he'd seen the wheat fields so lively, but it was nearly time to go.

Take wiped the cold sweat from his brow and brushed it onto his shirt.

"Here," Kakashi said, reaching into a vest compartment.

"What…" Take snapped, looking up to find a familiar, sharpened edge dangling above his head. He reached out and grabbed for it, pleased, this time, to find more than thin air in the palm of his hand.

"Try using it more effectively, next time."

It looked exactly as Take remembered it, perhaps, a little better, even: professionally sharpened and professionally polished. The leather had been tightened and the engravings cleaned. It glowed like gold, in the sunset. He quickly pocketed it.

"I'll trade you," Kakashi cooed. Take stared at him, saying nothing, but slowly pulled the other kunai from his pocket. He handed it over to the jonin, who took time to pocket the battered piece of metal.

"Thanks," Take mumbled, looking away.

"I want to show you something."

"What?" Take climbed to his feet.

Kakashi walked toward the center of the field, aligning himself with the scarecrow. He drew out his hands. His movements were fast, faster than any human eye could register, which is why it didn't matter whether or not Take saw the specifics, but Kakashi could hear the young boy moving around behind him, circling to see what was happening. The jonin raced through a short series of hand seals that were almost an extension of his fingers: ox-rabbit-monkey.

"What's that?" He heard Take ask. Kakashi could see him standing to the side. There wasn't much that could break his concentration, however. He held his wrist and right hand down as an excitement of electricity exploded from the palm of his hand. "Incredible…"

Kakashi charged forward, accounting for a minor disadvantage. With his veteran control, however, he saw the distance between himself and the scarecrow as no real obstacle. Kakashi allowed the sound of static current and chirping birds to fill his eardrums, as his hand cut into the air. Not a millisecond later and his scarecrow counterpart cowered before him. Kakashi had impaled it with the sharp, electric blade at his fingertips. The Raikiri electrocuted it, from the inside out, causing it to smoke from the gaping hole now left where its midsection used to be.

The jonin turned, his hand still a piercing blue glow of high voltage, and Take stared back at him, his face slack-jawed and nothing short of amazed. Eventually, the familiar electric spikes, stabbing him mercilessly, disintegrated, returning Kakashi's calloused hand to its normal state. But the same could not be said for the scarecrow now dependent on the wind to put out those small embers that had ignited by the scorched fibers of his Hokage robes.

"What was that?" Take stared, gawking, as Kakashi strolled back over.

"That," the jonin paused, looking back to that torched version of his self, "was the Raikiri, an offspring jutsu to the Chidori. Both are types of lightning release ninjutsu and short-range attacks."

None of this information seemed to register with Take, though, who continued to gawk at him.

"…I created them," Kakashi finished. He then sulked as it occurred to him then that the small demonstration now left them in need of another practice dummy.

"You made that?" Take asked.

"You sound impressed," Kakashi noted.

"Tch," Take folded his arms, looking away pointedly. "Don't sound so full of yourself."

"Is that something you anticipate learning?" Kakashi asked.

"…Yes," Take muttered, but he kept his gaze averted.

"You will, one day." Take turned back, eyes growing with intrigue. "…You spent a good five hours out here, today. You warmed up, exercised, and practiced the technique I showed you. Not once did you take a break or feel the need to replenish yourself in any way." Kakashi tapped his chin with an index finger. "This tells me you have an extensive source of chakra, an amount so great that you're barely even aware of it."

"Does that mean I'll be able to do what you just did?" Take asked, but he made sure not to sound too overly enthusiastic about it.

Kakashi nodded. "You might. It depends on how often you train, how focused you are, and how fast you progress. Lightning may not be your element but, with the strength of your chakra and its abundance, I'm certain you could be taught a variation of the technique."

"Element?" Take paused at the term, recognizing it from somewhere. He thought he might have remembered Iruka-sensei instructing them on elements and manipulating chakra in this way, but he couldn't be certain. "You mean using nature and chakra?"

"Another day, another day," Kakashi waved. "It's time to head back," he said, returning to the trail. Take followed close behind.

"How did you make that?"

"The Chidori?" Take nodded. "Maa…I don't remember," the jonin lied.

"Could I make my own techniques?" Take asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It depends," Kakashi sighed. "I was a bit of a boy genius, myself."

"So you created it when you were young?"

"A little older than you," Kakashi replied, "but not by much."

"What is this place?" Take whispered, looking around.

Kakashi did the same but very briefly. "The surrounding area is entirely farmland. The structures, you might have noticed, make up a compound…a residential one."

"A compound?" Take repeated, confused. "I didn't see anyone or hear anyone."

Usually compounds consisted of large families, noble families that went about daily routines and tasks that upheld the compound. If it was a compound, as the Hokage suggested, then shouldn't Take have heard the sounds of a bustling clan, children at play, parents at work, and people generally appearing around the area? Take saw only abandoned buildings surrounded by farmland. He heard no sounds from beyond that large stone wall and never once saw anyone or anything come out from behind those heavy, wooden, iron plated gates.

"There was a clan that once lived here," Kakashi supplied, "known for being the village's first farming family. Their techniques were renowned and their produce most desired. Then, somewhere down the line, they became an established shinobi clan, giving birth to some of Konoha's most legendary sons and daughters."

"Where are they now?"

Kakashi picked up his pace and Take did the same.

"Maa, it's getting late," he whined softly, staring up at the sky. "I need the two of you to return before it gets dark."

"The two of you?" Take reiterated, perplexed. His face scrunched up in confusion. "What do you mean 'The two of you'? I'm the only one here." He pointed to himself.

Kakashi stopped dead on the trail, turning towards a cluster of nearby trees. He reached into his vest pocket and threw out a shuriken, hearing it crack against one of the tree's bark. There was an instant shriek, before a small body fell from the broken branches and landed on the wild hedges below. Take rushed over to see who or what it was as it climbed out of the bushes, howling "Ooh!" and "Ouch!" every so often.

"What the hell…?" Take fell short. There was no mistaking that rich, dark, red hair. "Tsuki?"

"Mmm," Kakashi nodded, watching the other boy climb to his feet. "I noticed him following us, some time ago. He trailed behind, at first, but he's been here for the majority of the time." Tsuki groaned, rubbing his battered head. "He fell asleep, most likely."

"You…idiot!" Take grabbed Tsuki by the sleeve and pulled him forward. The older boy complied, too disoriented to resist. "Why did you follow us?" He looked to the Hokage, infuriated. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Maa…" Kakashi sighed, combing his fingers through his silver strands. "I didn't think he'd be of much harm."

"He could tell Iruka-sensei!"

Kakashi hadn't thought of that.

"I won't! I promise!" Tsuki insisted, shaking his hands. He looked to the Hokage. "I didn't see much, I swear! I fell asleep!"

"I believe you," Kakashi said.

"Why did you follow us?" Take asked again, pushing the other boy away.

Tsuki readjusted his dark green jacket, zipping it up against the cold. "I thought we could hang out today, so I went looking for you," he explained. "Then I found you on the training fields, but you were already talking to the Hokage."

"Why didn't you reveal yourself then?" Kakashi asked, amused.

Tsuki bolted together, bowing. "I'm sorry, most awesome Kakashi-sama! I didn't want to interrupt your meeting. It seemed…secretive."

"It was, you loser," Take huffed, turning away. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"W-well…you're always alone." Tsuki frowned. "I just thought we could play together."

Kakashi observed Tsuki. He did not appear malicious enough or so untrustworthy as to warrant Take's temper. There was something so innately pathetic about Tsuki that Kakashi couldn't resist intervening on his behalf.

"It's alright, Tsuki. Take's taking private training lessons, and I'm his instructor," he said, ending the long silence between the two boys.

"Are you insane?" Take turned on him, furious. Kakashi recalled being Take's age, his height and small stature. He probably appeared as pitifully nonthreatening as well, at that age. "Why are you telling him that?"

Kakashi looked between the two, thoughtfully. "Tsuki could be of some use. If he manages to keep up with the training regimen, he'd make a far better sparring partner than a scarecrow."

"He can't keep up!" Take snapped, pointing at Tsuki. "He's an idiot. You saw him in class."

"Hey…I'm right here, ya know," Tsuki grumbled, staring at the ground. "…I could be a fast learner," he whispered, "and I would train extra hard to keep up with Take."

"No," Take snapped. "You'll only get hurt," he added, and there was something there, in his eyes, that Kakashi couldn't immediately place. Was it…worry? Fear? "Tell him, Hokage-sama."

Oh, Kakashi thought…now he was Hokage-sama only when Take wanted him on his side.

The jonin looked to Tsuki again, managing to catch his overly intimidated stare. Take was correct, to a certain degree. Kakashi recalled Tsuki during Iruka's class and, under normal circumstances, would label the boy as a waste of time. But there was something about Tsuki, something else the Rokudaime couldn't quite place that compelled him to disagree with Take. Establishing his higher authority didn't hurt, either.

"Keep showing up to training sessions," he said to Tsuki, much to Take's annoyance.

Tsuki's face ignited with joy.

"Yes sir!" he beamed, circling Kakashi with unchecked excitement. "I won't let you down, I promise!"

"Now, now…just show up," Kakashi chuckled, cautious but curious to see where this would lead.

"Take," Tsuki said, stepping near the other boy.

Take looked as though he might attack him at any moment.

Tsuki's smile faltered.

"You don't mind, do you? I mean, I'll try not to get in the way. Maybe afterwards you can help teach me a few things, ne?" The redhead laughed nervously, brushing against his younger friend.

"Whatever," Take said, rolling his eyes.

"It's settled then," Kakashi said cheerfully. It was his hope that Take wouldn't take too great an offense to the idea. After all, the boy did need someone closer to his level, physically and skill-wise, to spar with, at least until his technique improved. And who knew? Perhaps that ball of enthusiasm named Tsuki would learn a thing or two, as well. The two could only help the learning process along, as Kakashi imagined each boy would try to out-best the other.

Take stalked away.

"Kakashi-sama?"

"Mm," Kakashi looked down to find deep green eyes staring back at him.

"How will I know when to show up for training?" Tsuki asked with uncertainty, but not even the daggers Take stared him down with could dampen Tsuki's delight.

Kakashi looked to Take. "I put a note in his desk," he said. "I'll just do the same with you."

"A note? Won't Iruka-sensei catch you?"

"I have a method," Kakashi said. His method involved absolute certainty that Iruka was nowhere in sight when he broke into his classroom.

"Tsuki."

"Yes, sir."

"You know how to get back home from here?" Kakashi asked.

"Absolutely, sir," Tsuki nodded.

"Good." Kakashi nodded towards Take. "The two of you keep to the trail and head back. No fooling around. It's going to get dark soon."

"Right." Tsuki raced off, with his hands on his head, but he stopped to glance back at the Hokage. "Thank you, sir!" He smiled.

"Oi, oi," Kakashi waved. "Head home."

"Isn't this exciting, Take?" Tsuki said, catching up with the silver-haired boy. "We're gonna train together!"

"Just shut up and keep walking," Take sneered.

Kakashi watched the two boys venture off onto a trail outlining the forest until their figures were edged out by trees. Before they disappeared, he saw Tsuki throw an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders and Take did next to nothing in protest. Kakashi was certain the two would make it back alright. A crescent of the setting sun would cast just enough light to get them back to the training fields. Furthermore, shinobi children walked around unsupervised all the time. The jonin had nothing to worry about…

'Of course I don't', he thought quickly. He wasn't worried at all, because there was nothing to worry about. He didn't care. Right now, he was more concerned with getting back on Iruka's good side, which is why he insisted that they return without him. With them gone, Kakashi could set out on an alternative route, one that would take him straight into the marketplace.

The jonin had an errand to run. His intention was to take a quick stroll through the busy streets and stop by Ichiraku's. It had been reconstructed in the same place, after the war, on the western end of the marketplace. That would give Kakashi plenty of time to peruse his other options, maybe pick up something Iruka might like, before settling on the ramen he already knew the chunin couldn't resist.

Bringing home some Ichiraku's would surely prove an effective deterrent to Iruka's foul mood. Kakashi hadn't seen the chunin all day, but he had a fleeting suspicion that the other man was still upset with him and for a reason the jonin did not yet fully grasp. So he'd been a bit short with Iruka. With so little time to himself he was determined to spend as much of it on the training fields as possible. Whatever Hokage nonsense Iruka needed to bring up could have waited.

Still, Kakashi hadn't anticipated Iruka's reaction and would surely end up paying for a very long time, if he did not fix this now. He couldn't recall a time when Iruka seriously wanted to kick him out. It took a lot of antagonizing, on his part, for Iruka to avoid him. Perhaps, this time, he'd gone a bit too far.

A couple of kids around Take and Tsuki's age passed him by. All around, the marketplace functioned like a well-oiled cog of attraction and amusement. He went unnoticed, for the most part, with the occasional bystander brushing up against him. Lovers, families, friends, patrons, and proprietors…no one seemed to notice the Rokudaime strolling down the street. Did Kakashi look so unfamiliar when wearing his uniform? Nonsense... Still, he rather enjoyed being able to walk down the street without having to worry about praise or unwanted attention.

Kakashi sighed in content.

It was the clothes that made the Hokage to most villagers who only caught a few fleeting glances of one at a time. Now, with his robes officially ruined, Kakashi had no other choice but to wear his uniform. He was, once again, a faceless jonin known only by legend.

What a shame.

Kakashi spotted Ichiraku's at the end of the road, but he continued his leisurely walk. The jonin was in no real rush. Iruka had to be in either two places: his office or the missions room, both of which required late hours of his services. Iruka might have had an earlier shift in the missions room, a fact Kakashi would have known if the chunin hadn't disappeared that morning. That Iruka was avoiding him was an option to consider, but it was Kakashi's firm belief that a few bowls from Ichiraku would set things straight…and surely have Iruka realizing that he'd overreacted about the whole thing.

Kakashi flipped over a flap.

"Kakashi-sama!" Teuchi greeted him. The old man wiped off a porcelain bowl with great earnest. "Have a seat! Have a seat! Here to sit down for a meal, I take it?" he chuckled.

"No, no…I'm here for take-out," Kakashi corrected, good-naturedly.

"Ah…that's a shame," Teuchi frowned. "Iruka-san and Yamato-san are right over here. I thought you might like to join them."

Kakashi blinked. Iruka and Yamato?

Kakashi scanned the humble eatery and spotted them sitting at the far end of the ramen bar. He was surprised he hadn't seen them the moment he entered. Then again, he never expected to run into either of them here, at Ichiraku's. He never once imagined a scenario where he'd find Iruka and Yamato, together, without him.

It certainly was…odd.

"Hello, Kakashi-senpai." Yamato turned slowly, greeting his senpai with a slight grin. "I didn't think I'd see you here."

Kakashi approached, slowly, and took the empty seat next to Yamato. "Maa…I came here to pick up some dinner," Kakashi said, noticing Iruka sitting with his head bowed low.

"I didn't think you liked ramen all that much, Kakashi-senpai," Yamato suggested.

"I like it enough," Kakashi said shortly. He figured the bowl before Iruka had rendered the chunin's attention preoccupied but, as he leaned forward, Kakashi quickly noted that the contents of Iruka's ramen bowl had already been hastily consumed. "Iruka-sensei," he greeted, hoping to catch his attention.

"…Kakashi-san," Iruka murmured softly. "I take it you didn't show up for work, since I was there all day and didn't see you.”

"No. Not today," Kakashi admitted, leaning back to speak around Yamato's existence, "but I made a quick visit last night. I picked up that package you wanted me to look at."

"Did you read it?"

"Yes."

"Good."

“Yep.”

Yamato looked between the two, reserving his uncertainty, but the captain grew immensely uncomfortable. He was, suddenly, the buffer between the two. He looked to Teuchi, but the aging man looked just as uncertain, confused by the clipped exchange.

Kakashi-sama and Iruka-sensei were not only loyal customers themselves but mentors to his greatest patron, Naruto Uzumaki. He imagined that, if not friends, they were considerably close acquaintances. He couldn't recall a lot of times where one entered his restaurant not accompanied by the other and, quite often, their mutual student.

Tonight certainly was a rare occasion.

"I'm allowed to take as many party members as I require," Kakashi said, his eye fixed on Iruka. Yamato blocked his line of vision but Iruka hunched into himself, further challenging Kakashi's sight of him. "I may need your assistance, Iruka-sensei."

"We'll see."

"Indeed."

A crash emitted from inside the kitchen, followed by a yelp.

Yamato wiped the sweat from his brow, glad for the distraction.

"Nishi! You dropped another pot!"

"My bad, Matsu! My bad! At least I didn't spill it on your feet, this time."

"I had third degree burns, for weeks! You know what I'll do to you, if you do that again?"

"Nothing nearly as brutal as what I'll do to you both if you two don't shut your traps and get back to work!" Teuchi yelled over his shoulder. "We've got customers, damn it!" There was a quick scuffle of feet and a few clinks of pots and pans before the kitchen returned to a productive volume. Teuchi looked back, staring at his three shinobi customers. "Good help is hard to find these days," he chuckled, a strained smile on his face.

"No kidding," Yamato smiled, chuckling a little louder than necessary. "I bet you miss Ayame-san a great deal, right now."

"Nah," Teuchi waved away. "She's been nothing but the perfect little helper since the day she took up her old man's trade," he grinned. "It's good for her to get out and see the world, first hand. I think after all the tales she hears from you fellas, she wanted to experience a bit of adventure for herself."

"I guess so," Yamato grinned. He turned to Kakashi, trying to think of something to say, when he noticed something different about the older man's appearance. "Kakashi-senpai, where are your robes?" he asked.

"They suffered a grave fate," Kakashi said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yamato groaned.

There was a sharp exhale from Yamato's right. Kakashi leaned back, catching the subtlest shake of Iruka's head.

"Is that why you're in uniform," Teuchi concluded. "I was beginning to wonder. In that case, care for a drink, Kakashi-sama? I guarantee you one stiff shot of our most exceptional sake will make you forget whatever happened to your attire."

"No thank you, Teuchi-san."

"You sure? Drinks are on the house, for the Hokage." Teuchi winked.

"Maa…I'm certain," Kakashi nodded, his eye beaming. He reached into his back pocket, fishing for his wallet. Then he pulled it out and opened it up, took out a few bills and left them on the counter. "I'll just be on my way now, but how about another round of ramen for Yamato-san and Iruka-sensei," he said. "My treat."

With that, Kakashi stood from his stool. "Teuchi-san," he said, nodding his farewell.

"Oh, well, alright then. Have a good evening, Kakashi-sama."

Yamato sat, confused. He quickly turned to Iruka, but the frowning chunin had grown quiet and indifferent, a stark difference from the smiling and engaging conversationalist he had been before Kakashi-senpai arrived. Iruka didn't seem all too eager to look away from his empty bowl of ramen, either.

"Yamato-san. Iruka-sensei..."

"Kakashi-senpai…?" The restaurant's dividing flaps swung in the wind, but Kakashi was gone before Yamato finished turning on his stool.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed :)


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruka gets a day off, as decreed by Kakashi, his tormentor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I can't wait to give these chapters decent titles (as soon as I come up with them).

Iruka turned the key and opened his door with ease. He felt he shouldn't have been, but, it surprised him to find his apartment pitch black and soundless. The chunin sighed, unable to contain his disappointment, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

For the most part, he enjoyed his evening. Genma offered to switch shifts with him, to which Iruka readily accepted. So eager was he to avoid another late night shift that he didn't even ask Genma his reasons for offering. Knowing the tokubetsu jonin and that deviant smirk he practically embodied, Iruka figured he probably didn't want to know.

An evening of rest would do him some good. It would certainly save him from spending another night dodging the prying stares of his fellow colleagues. It wasn't just the missions room, either, as, everywhere he went, Iruka found himself being eyed by other shinobi. Whispers spewed rapidly from behind the palms of their hands. Iruka couldn't walk down a corridor or street without feeling their gazes on him, until the unwanted attention had him gripping tightly at the files in his hands.

Of course, Iruka couldn't assume that all those murmurs were words of ill-intent. There were those who seemed genuinely interested about his role beneath the Hokage. He often found himself recounting his duties, and with great enthusiasm, whenever stopped and asked what it was the Rokudaime required of him. And when they walked away, their curiosity fulfilled, Iruka would fall into a bout of frustration. The paperwork, the messages, the office hours…despite all the strife the position entailed, coupled with the mayhem contributed by the Hokage himself, Iruka always came off as eager to be the Hokage's assistant.

Iruka couldn't understand what was wrong with him.

He'd been honest, the night before, when he told Kakashi-san he considered acting on Lady Utatane's advisement. In any case, Iruka wasn't entirely convinced that it was his limited capabilities the jonin required, as Kakashi-san's insistence never seemed to amount to much more than needing him for the sake of needing him. Iruka wondered how the man would even know that. How did Kakashi know whether or not he wouldn't rather prefer a stable, hard-working woman— a female touch, as Lady Utatane so delicately put it?

Surely Iruka was being more foolish than the Hokage. At least Kakashi acted selfishly for the sake of being selfish, needing Iruka around for whatever form of amusement the chunin provided him. Iruka committed the truer selfishness to believe that, even for a moment, Kakashi needed him as much as the man claimed.

Especially since, even after threatening to resign and telling Kakashi he didn't care whether he stayed or left, it was Iruka who expected to walk in and find the jonin lounging on his couch.

Iruka closed his eyes and sighed, shaking the thoughts from his mind, and turned to lock his front door. He thought back to earlier that afternoon, when he'd crossed paths with Yamato-san. They shared a few pleasantries but Iruka came nowhere near honest when the jonin had asked him about the quality of his day.

"It could have gone better."

Yamato-san had offered to treat him to Ichiraku's and, before Iruka even knew what was happening, he agreed in the face of the captain's commendable earnestness. Iruka couldn't help but scoff, wondering if Yamato-san's persistence was a trait learned well from his former senpai. Of course, in his persistence, Yamato-san he'd been more considerate than Iruka recalled Kakashi being since the day they first met.

Iruka and Yamato shared a few drinks and spoke freely before their order of tsukemen ramen appeared. Yamato-san disclosed, in great detail, a mission he recently partook in, and Iruka was surprised to find the other man really interested in knowing how his day could have gone better. Iruka didn't have much rapport with the jonin of Konoha. The closest interaction he got with most of them was through temp squads and mission reports. Friendly conversation between himself and Captain Yamato-san was a rare occasion for many reasons.

Iruka slid off his shoes and lined them up against the wall, his thoughts still focused on his evening with the captain and how much he'd enjoyed his unexpected company.

Then he groaned, as the two of them became the three of them and all hopes of enjoyment disappeared.

Why, of all unimaginable times, did Kakashi-san have to enter Ichiraku's on that particular night? Why after the night before, when Iruka couldn't stand to look at him? Why did it have to be Yamato-san who had offered to treat him to a meal and why did Iruka accept the invitation?

Why did he feel it mattered?

Iruka's thoughts rushed ahead of him and so he stopped thinking all together. He stood in numb silence, staring out the living room window as it hovered over a sea of darkness. Clouds gathered outside, and Iruka was certain tonight would commence a long and merciless rainstorm. The weather had certainly taken a drastic turn, mirroring his mood to perfection. He expected nothing more than the harshest of downpours tonight, tomorrow, or sometime in the immediate future.

The window was closed, just as Iruka had left it that morning. Whether Kakashi-san used it to leave, a habit customary to the jonin, Iruka did not know. So afraid of what he might say or do in retaliation to whatever inconsiderate, jerky nonsense Kakashi-san might have to say, the chunin left earlier than usual and successfully without notice. He made sure to be very quiet as even the slightest of noises would alert the elite jonin. Not only was he a superb shinobi but Kakashi-san was also, no surprise, a light sleeper.

The moment he awoke, Iruka told the ninken of his intentions. They were upset but, for the most part, understanding, and Iruka promised he'd make it up to them somehow. He and Kakashi might have had a falling out but that didn't mean the ninken had to suffer. Iruka had no intention of leaving them any time soon, and they were more than welcomed to stay with him for as long as they liked. They weren't going anywhere. That's why it was doubly upsetting for the chunin to hear silence rather than the sound of their chatter upon entering.

Iruka had suggested they get out today, convinced them to spend the day gallivanting on the mountainside. It proved good exercise for them, a group activity they could excuse as fun and not training, and Iruka enjoyed spotting them on the slopes of the Hokage monument whenever he saw fit to peak out the office windows.

Either they hadn't returned yet or they weren't going to return, and the latter probability left Iruka disheartened. Still, it wasn't as if he had any real say in where they stayed or where they lived. The ninken were not his dogs, though he'd grown very fond of them. Should Kakashi-san decide to take them with him, Iruka had no right to raise a complaint. Only, Iruka recalled what it was like before Kakashi-san and the ninken chose to spend their time at his place. Back then, he could only hope that Naruto was so bored or unoccupied in his own life that he would check in on his Academy sensei every now and then. Otherwise, Iruka really had nothing to look forward to at home, other than a meal cooked for one, some Academy assignments to correct, and a long night spent lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Iruka knew he lived a very lonely existence.

It had always been that way, really. Since the age of twelve and the death of his parents, Iruka knew nothing else but to survive on his own and by his own. True the Sandaime had supported him, had always encouraged him. He made a few friends at the Academy, eventually, but those few friendly acquaintances were either dead or above his pay roll now. And Sarutobi-sama died protecting their village, leaving Iruka to grieve his passing every day.

There'd been Mizuki, who Iruka once believed to be his best friend. Then the truth had exposed itself, and Iruka learned his supposed best friend thought of him as nothing more than a pathetic excuse for a shinobi and, out of spite, merely toyed with his affections. Mizuki's betrayal certainly made trusting others a more trying dilemma.

Iruka found Izumo and Kotetsu to be an exception, however. He trusted them to be good and honest men, trusted them to have his back and to enjoy his company, but Iruka never once thought of inviting them into his home. It just seemed…unnecessary.

So, like now, Iruka would return to his lifeless apartment, with not much else but an evening of silence as his only companion.

Iruka grazed a hand against the wall, blindly looking for the light switch. He thought back to the Hokage, about this evening, and the atmosphere that could have been cut with a knife. Kakashi-san entered the ramen shop, and it was as if the world had stopped. Old man Teuchi-san called out the jonin's name and it was as though breath itself had been stripped from Iruka's lungs. He would not dare look up, not after the trouble Kakashi-san had caused him– after the hell he'd gone through the day before. All he wanted was a pleasant evening out with an acquaintance, dare he say, another colleague he could soon call his friend. Not once during their time together did either he or Yamato-san bring up the Hokage, Iruka realized, not knowing whether that made him happy or not.

Iruka flipped the switch.

He expected to find an empty apartment, an empty living room, and yet a body lay slumped across his couch. Iruka paused, slightly unnerved, but he didn't feel it necessary to stand guard. He recognized that body; the soft strands of silver hair that stood on end, the arms draped over the armrest, the bare shoulders, the lean muscle build, the long limbs, and that familiar, navy-blue undershirt and mask barring all sight to the face that lie beneath it. His eyes fell on Kakashi's tattoo. It burned red, under the soft glow of the living room light. Because of Kakashi-san's insistent negligence, Iruka had seen the Anbu insignia quite a few times. It was no less startling than the last time he'd seen it, especially as it drew more attention to the severe paleness of Kakashi's skin.

Kakashi-san's torso was twisted, his back facing towards the ceiling, and his face was, effectively, buried against the back cushions of the couch. The way in which Kakashi-san slept didn't look all too comfortable, but that thought was immediately trumped by the shock of seeing Kakashi-san lying there in the first place. Iruka stepped forward and Kakashi-san didn't stir.

He noticed the jonin's shirt and flak jacket tossed on top of his desk, so he walked across the room and followed suit, pulling his own jacket from his shoulders. He folded up the shirt, set both vests on the edge of his desk, side by side, and gazed at them thoughtfully. He sighed, thinking of how he'd put both articles of clothing through the wash sometime this week. That's what usually ended up happening. Much of the jonin's clothes ended up in his laundry basket, and cleaning them was a thoughtless endeavor on Iruka's part. But now he really thought about it, staring at the two identically issued but distinctively dissimilar jackets: one a lighter green, laden with chalk residue, dirt, and a few minor rips, and the other a darker green, spotted with blood stains and patterned with dozens of ragged tears that Iruka had, long ago, taken upon himself to patch back together. He'd go through the two vests, taking out the weapons, the scrolls, the tools, and put them in the wash along with the rest of his clothes.

Speaking of which… Iruka scanned the room in search of the Hokage robes Kakashi-san claimed had suffered a grave fate. Iruka didn't believe that story for one second, certain he'd find the robes stuffed in some obscure corner of his apartment. He thought it typical of the jonin to tell such a boldface lie. Iruka eyed the man with disdain, even as Kakashi-san slept. Iruka crossed his arms and frowned but, from this angle, he still couldn't see Kakashi-san's face. Annoyance quickly ebbed away, and another wave of worry consumed him.

Iruka wandered past the coffee table and back across the room, his gaze never leaving Kakashi-san's seemingly sleeping form. All the while, he tried to find a place for this undeserved concern. By all rights, he shouldn't care to know whether or not Kakashi-san was really sleeping or not. Still pained by the other man's words and actions, Iruka had every right to demand that Kakashi-san leave at once. Yet he found he could not. Kakashi-san still hadn't stirred, showed no signs of alertness, and knowing that this was unlike the jonin was upsetting to him.

He kept his distance, not wanting to disturb Kakashi-san if he really was sleeping. Perhaps it was best this way, and the less interaction they shared with each other the better. But that didn't explain why Kakashi-san was here, in his home. Watching him, his eyes fixed with uncertainty, Iruka doubted that Kakashi-san's return was meant to mess with him. Were that the case, surely he'd be awake to greet him and torture him with his overbearing presence. This had to be something different, something Iruka couldn't easily place.

Iruka walked into his kitchen, noting the eight bowls on the floor and that they were empty. The chunin smiled, looking towards the hallway. Noise or no noise, seeing those few crumbs left at the bottom of their bowls left Iruka a little more hopeful to find eight hounds in his bedroom. Maybe they called in an early night, just as their owner had…possibly.

Iruka walked out of the kitchen area, trailing his hand over the counter on his way out. He looked to Kakashi-san again and noticed no change in his demeanor. For one irrational moment, Iruka feared Kakashi-san wasn't breathing. 'Of course he's breathing,' he mentally chided… Iruka was tired and needed rest if he was so willing to jump to such a conclusion. The thought of Kakashi-san possibly succumbing to some fatality on his couch traumatized him. Kakashi-san's deathly pale skin looked even paler when imagining the jonin drained of life. Iruka couldn't get the idea out of his head, now, and was growing more paranoid with every passing second. Possessed with worry and tormented by his own imagination, he crept towards his couch again, thinking that if he could see the subtle rise and fall of Kakashi-san's body more distinctly, it would put his mind at ease.

The jonin exhaled and inhaled, relieving the chunin of his concern.

Iruka shook himself of his thoughts. He was acting ridiculous. He should have turned down Yamato-san's offer and taken what free time he had to call it an early night, too. Get some sleep. Instead, he stood in his living room with baited breath while his mind tricked him into believing the Hokage lay dead on his couch. He tugged at his hair band and pulled his ponytail apart, knowing the subsiding pressure would ease his simmering migraine. He had a habit of pulling his hair too tightly together. Though he put his hair up to minimize any hair related incident, headaches often did more harm than good.

"You should wear your hair down more often."

Kakashi-san's coolly controlled voice echoed through his mind. He looked to the jonin again, uncertain, but shook his head and moved on. He turned the lights off and made sure that the front door was locked. He moved around the dark, allowing the faint street light from outside to filter through the room. Iruka's eyes adapted quickly, to where he could see shadows of his bookshelves outlining his walls, the dark figures of his scrolls, his tools, his possessions, as well as his couch and the limp body lying on top of it.

The chunin was heading toward his bedroom when a thought stopped him in his tracks. Iruka retraced his steps and stopped at the hallway closet, quick to rifle through its contents. There were three shelves stacked with toiletries and variously sized towels and two cupboards beneath them that were packed with thick, wool blankets, bed sheets, and duvet covers. Iruka pulled out the thickest blanket he could find, before closing the sliding door. He returned to the couch, unfolding the cover as he went. He pulled two ends apart, all the while eyeing the dark figure that was Kakashi-san's sleeping form. Regardless of how hopeless the jonin had him feeling, Iruka could not allow him to continue sleeping under the impending weather conditions. Not in good conscience, at least. Iruka felt a chill, just thinking of how cold it was going to get.

It was freezing now.

A mission was one thing, but why would anyone readily sleep through weather like this without some form of covering? Kakashi-san knew where the linens were– he should have pulled out a blanket for himself. The chunin rolled his eyes. Why was he even questioning this? Why did he question anything Kakashi-san did or didn't do, knowing that the answer or lack thereof would only irritate him? Shaking his head once more, Iruka fanned the blanket out until the other two ends folded over the jonin's body. Kakashi-san was effectively covered, with the exception of one of his legs. The long limb dangled over the edge of the couch.

Iruka leaned forward, fixing the blanket so that it dipped around Kakashi-san's shoulders and backside, extra careful not to touch any part of the Hokage's body.

Former Anbu efficient in various forms of killing often lashed out as they slept. So accustomed to keeping vigilant on S-rank assignments; watching their backs, that elite jonin like Kakashi never really reached a full state of rest. They struggled, constantly, with their paranoia and fluctuating sense of security. Then there were all those other side-effects to living as the highest form of protection to the village. Iruka was an instructor, a teacher well-versed in the knowledge of what it meant to be that protector. Throughout history, many great shinobi had lost their sanity in their efforts to cope with the lifestyle and those efforts proving fruitless. Iruka knew of colleagues no higher ranked than he who had snapped after their first mission, their first kill, and were now housed, indefinitely, in one of the hospital's many psychiatric wards.

For higher ranking shinobi, the trauma could be much worse. Iruka couldn't count how many times he'd heard of some jonin from some shinobi village that had tragically gone mad and killed their friends or entire family. It happened to the most seemingly stable of their kind, sometimes. He or she returned from assignment in a trance, where their footsteps led them home but their minds were stuck in mission mode or on the battlefield. In this state of mind they fought, often mistaking their loved ones for mortal enemies. That's why, to avoid this, many Anbu members tried to retire after a few years. But even the most extreme precautions failed to eliminate all evidence of trauma. As for Kakashi-san, Iruka wouldn't be surprised to find that the older man slept with a weapon at his disposal, ready to be pulled from his person at any given moment. Even Iruka kept a kunai beneath his pillow, and he had far less reason to be so attentive.

In that respect, Iruka worried over Kakashi-san a great deal. He wondered how the former Anbu, the Legendary Copy Nin, coped with the extremities of his life.

Iruka reached over, carefully, making sure to secure the rest of the blanket along Kakashi-san's head, all the while looking down at him with some trepidation. He pulled the back cushions forward a bit, hoping to provide a little more comfort for the jonin, then paused, staring at that crop of thick silver hair.

Becoming Hokage was the best thing for Kakashi-san, in Iruka's opinion. Not that he was overly unstable, but the jonin didn't react to situations in any way Iruka found normal. Being regularly cool and controlled, aloof and indifferent, wasn't healthy and certainly couldn't be all that Kakashi-san could be. Maybe that was his coping mechanism, in some small way, for the hardships of field work.

Iruka stood back, observing his handy work. His attention was taken by flashes of light coming from outside. He waited a few more seconds until, eventually, the sound of thunder rumbled from a sky of thick, grey clouds. He looked down once more, unable to tear his eyes away from Kakashi-san just yet. At least he could sleep easy now, knowing the jonin wasn't out here freezing to death. He gave up trying to figure out why Kakashi-san was here to begin with. Whatever his reasons…they could wait until morning. Even if he wanted to, Iruka knew he would never send Kakashi-san out in weather this wretched.

"Good night, Kakashi-san," Iruka whispered, knowing that his words had fallen on deaf ears, but saying goodnight put him at ease, for some reason. He reached out again, tugging the cover a little higher, until Iruka saw only a large, pale ear protruding beneath tufts of hair. Then he walked away, at last, imagining the cushions, the soft fabric, and warmth of his own bed. He nearly grinned, dreamily, certain that Guruko, Pakkun, Bull, Shiba, Uhei, Urushi, Bisuke, and Akino were there, surrounding his bed. Their accumulated body heat would only make a night of much needed rest all the more pleasant. And whatever curiosity Iruka held towards their master, in whatever aspect, could definitely wait until morning.

Then morning came.

It was raining, just as Iruka knew it would. The downpour thudded against his roof, having started some time during the night, and now pulled him from his sleep. Actually, Iruka vaguely recalled Pakkun pulling the collar of his turtle-neck with his teeth and humming, scarcely melodically, into his ear.

"Rise and shine, pup," the pug muttered between the tight grip of his jowls. Iruka didn't swat Pakkun away, though he wanted to, and instead pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes and yawning, the weight of Pakkun's small form falling into his lap. In a haze of grogginess, the ninken were only a blur of colorful fur, but he counted five of them, all of which were looking to him with eager gazes. Disoriented, Iruka's eyes grew wide with fear. Did he wake up late? Was he late to work? What about the Academy...? Had they secured a substitute for the next week?

"Pakkun!" Pakkun jumped at the shrill volume of his voice. "What time is it?"

"Relax, youngster," he groused, pawing at Iruka's sheets. He looked to the chunin with a toothy grin. "It's Sunday. You don't work today," he explained.

"Since when?" Iruka asked, skeptic, but he reached down and scratched behind Pakkun's ears. The little pug panted appreciatively, closing his eyes with glee.

"Since always," Pakkun mumbled.

"Iruka! Iruka!" Guruko raced from the edge of the bed, brushing up against Iruka's side. The chunin smiled, wrapping his arm around the larger dog. "Time to wake up, Iruka!"

"I'm up, I'm up," he chuckled, earning him a lick to the face. "I don't have as much energy as you do, Guruko."

"He's just excited," Bisuke said, sauntering across the bed.

Iruka yawned, "What's there to be excited about?"

The droopy-eyed dog bowed low, brushing his nose against the bed. "It's so gloomy outside," he said, frowning. Iruka couldn't have agreed more. He took one look outside his window and sulked, not wanting to believe how dreadful the weather was. He saw tree branches dance in front of the glass, as the wind threatened to strip them of all their leaves. The clouds maintained a dark grey tint, heavy with the threat of more rainfall. How such a sunny day as yesterday had morphed into this, overnight, Iruka didn't know.

He reached out and patted the top of Bisuke's head. "I couldn't agree more."

"Good morning, Iruka!"

"Mm?"

"Morning, Iruka."

Shiba and Uhei leaned over the edge of Iruka's bed, standing on their hind legs. Their tails wagged in perfect tempo with each other, swinging back and forth with enthusiasm. Iruka made sure to greet them as well, reaching over to ruffle their fur.

"Good morning," Iruka smiled.

He watched Uhei and Shiba lap at his hand and felt Bisuke, Pakkun, and Guruko watch him, expectantly. That's when he smelled something, an appetizing aroma wafting through the bitterly cold air. It caused Iruka's mouth to water and his stomach to churn. The prospect of eating that round of ramen Kakashi-san had paid for made him feel miserable and disinclined but, perhaps, he should have accepted the gesture. He didn't realize how hungry he was until just now, as a savory smell hit his nostrils.

"What's that smell?" he asked, to which he gained no response. All five ninken stared back at him, smiling at him, their ever-watchful gazes unsettling. In search of answers, yesterday immediately replayed in Iruka's mind: a meal, an evening with Yamato-san and then another jonin; Kakashi-san, no less, who paid for a round of ramen and the miraculously appeared to have crashed on his couch, late last night. Iruka could safely assume where that smell was coming from, now.

"Smells like food to me," Pakkun said. "Let's go, youngster." The pug grabbed hold of his sleeve and tugged, leading the chunin from his bed. Iruka allowed the ninken to push him out of bed, to where he staggered to remain standing. "I don't know about you, Iruka, but I'm starving."

"So am I," Bisuke said.

"Likewise," Uhei shrugged, brushing past Iruka's leg.

"Me too!" Shiba exclaimed, following after his bandaged brother.

Guruko jumped off the bed, scraping his claws against the rug. He looked up at the chunin, moping. "Man, Iruka. After all the running and climbing we did yesterday, the food you left us just wasn't enough. I'm hungry!" The thick whiskered dog urged Iruka forward, as the rest of his kin circled around, guiding him towards the door.

Iruka stopped at the door, placing the palm of his hand against the frame. "You guys go ahead. I need to go to the bathroom," he said.

Five identical smiles dropped.

"Can't you wait?" Pakkun grouched out.

Iruka laughed, nervously. He found himself running a hand through his hair in a way he'd seen Kakashi-san do on many occasion. "I just woke up! If I wait any longer, I might not make it," he reasoned, cautiously.

"Mm…" Pakkun hummed, his eyes narrowing into slants. "If you say so, youngster." The pug motioned to the others, his stumpy tail lifting into the air. "Let's go get some grub."

Iruka turned the knob and opened the door for them, releasing five dogs out into the rest of his apartment. He watched them chase down the hallway and into a living room that boomed with morning light and the clatter of cooking utensils. Iruka stepped out of his bedroom, from one side of the hall and into the bathroom, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible. The linoleum tiles of his bathroom floor hit his bare feet like a surge of ice, but he ignored the shocking sensation. He took a few steps forward, reached out, and pulled back the shower curtain, revealing a small rectangular window above the tub. Outside the rain showered down, pelting the glass with thick drops of water.

Iruka looked on, hopelessness etched into his eyes. A sense of anxiety overtook him, as he gazed into that downpour.

A couple of minutes passed before Iruka pulled the shower curtain back. He went about his morning routine: brushed his teeth, washed his face…he decided to hold off on a shower, for now, and brushed his hair but didn't pull it back into a ponytail. Washing his hands, he looked up from the sink to the mirror and stared at his reflection. Sullen brown eyes stared back at him, looking down at the dull scar across his nose and the thin-lipped frown beneath it. Even Iruka had to admit to himself that the man staring back at him didn't think the morning would begin as peacefully as he hoped.

Iruka emerged from the bathroom better collected than before. He was fully awake now but walked at a snail's pace. He imagined what it was he might find on the other end of his hallway, what sight would accompany the distant murmurs and commotion. The first thing Iruka noticed was the blanket he used to cover Kakashi-san last night. Someone had folded it up and placed it at the end of the couch. He heard heavy panting and guessed that a few of the ninken were roughhousing in the living room. Then he saw them, Guruko, Uhei, and Shiba, chasing one another around the coffee table. Iruka furrowed his brow, frowning. "Someone's going to break something," he snapped, gripping his waist.

"Ma…that's what I told them."

Iruka's expression fell as anticipation took hold of him. Besides, he knew the ninken were in no real danger of destroying anything, even themselves. They were ninken, after all, but he had to be mindful of the neighbors...and his possessions... And their paws pounding against the floor could get him written up or worse, evicted. Even he wouldn't want to have to listen to that so early in the morning.

"What time is it?" Iruka asked, nervous over who would answer. Would it be Akino, Bisuke, or Bull, all of whom lay on his couch; Urushi, who lay beneath the coffee table, Guruko, Shiba, or Uhei, all three of whom aligned themselves under the mantle, or would it be that unmistakably rich, low tone that drifted, just now, from inside his kitchen?

"It is 9:50," Kakashi hummed, moving about the kitchen. Iruka couldn't see what he was doing but, whatever it was, it produced a good smell. "The ninken wanted to wake you sooner, but I insisted you take a few more hours of rest. I figured we're in no rush, since it's your day off."

_We?_

"…Since when is it my day off, Kakashi-san?" Iruka asked, hesitantly.

He focused his gaze on Kakashi's back now, following the silver haired man from the fridge to the stove. His footsteps had led him to the edge of the kitchen counter. Iruka gripped it tightly, dependent on its support. Kakashi turned, spatula in hand, wearing the broadest of smiles in his one visible eye.

Iruka felt his face heat up, his mouth go dry and, if he tried speaking just then, he was certain of his incapability of doing so.

"You have this day off now… I am the Hokage and I've made my decree," he stated, and Iruka marveled at the man's simplicity. The jonin turned back towards the stove, where the sound of sizzling and a rush of steam awaited him. Iruka drummed his fingers against the counter, looking around. He saw dishes on the other side of the counter– all of them empty, but imagined that Kakashi-san had set them out in preparation of using them. Iruka looked to the jonin once more, watching his every move.

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"What happened to Kakashi?"

"Pakkun…I don't know what you're talking about."

He looked behind him, where the ninken spoke adamantly among themselves. Then he looked out the window and couldn't believe his eyes. It appeared as though the rain was only pouring down harder and heavier than before. Iruka turned back to look at Kakashi who remained busied with food that smelled absolutely delicious.

"You couldn't give me the day off on a day with better weather?"

"You see?" Pakkun growled, leaping on top of the counter. "I told you." He looked to Iruka. "I told him to pick a better day."

Kakashi looked to them both. "Ne…it's just today," he shrugged. "I don't expect it to rain, every Sunday."

"Every Sunday?" Iruka froze, his eyes growing wide. "Kakashi-san…"

"Take a look at this, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi said, motioning him over. Iruka circled around, stepping into the kitchen, and did his best not to meet the jonin's stare. He stopped short, standing beside the other man. He looked to the stove, where a different kind of food cooked on every burner. "Omelets, natto, steamed rice, and miso," Kakashi explained, pointing to each individual pot or pan. Iruka's eyes lit up, and his stomach grumbled again. The golden yellow of the omelets, the creamy brown of the beans, the flaky white rice and the miso swirling with seaweed strings had him near tears. "I also made tsukemono. It's in the fridge."

"Kakashi-san," Iruka breathed, amazed. "That's a lot of food."

"Then there's enough food to last all day," he shrugged.

Iruka turned to him, taken back by disbelief. "Kakashi-san, you shouldn't have –"

"I wanted to," the jonin interjected. "I thought it would be a nice thing to do."

Iruka couldn't help it. He smiled. "It is."

"What do ya mean you don't know what I'm talking about? He came in and didn't say a damn thing to any of us."

"Who didn't?

"Kakashi!"

"Maa, I'm almost done here. Go take a seat and I'll serve."

"You're serving?" Iruka asked, sporting a smirk and a raised brow.

"I'm serving," Kakashi-san reiterated, waving a spatula back and forth.

"Okay then…" Iruka muttered, blinking his disbelief away. It wasn't as if Kakashi-san hadn't served him food before, especially after plenty of other times where he'd felt crossed by the jonin, just…Iruka believed it easier to forget the former than it was the latter.

Taking a seat on his couch, he felt confused. He also felt amused and anxious and nervous, and the chunin couldn't understand why these feelings kept tumbling over one another. He felt entitled to only one emotion, anger, but anger never came to him.

Iruka settled against the cushions, resting his left arm against Bull's back. He rubbed him down, absentmindedly, while watching the rest of the ninken interact with one another. They looked happy; at least, happier than they appeared last night. Iruka recalled only a few hours ago, opening his bedroom door and flicking the light switch to find eight dogs laying on his bed. They'd been staring at the door, all night, waiting for him. Pakkun sat at the front, always the leader of their pack. He also seemed the most disgruntled, for a reason Iruka didn't understand.

_"After the way he treated you, we were all hoping you'd let that nitwit back in. So we waited. He came in through the front door! We were waiting by the window! And he didn't say one word to us– he just waltzed right in and collapsed on the couch."_

_In some little game based on speed and agility, Pakkun pounced on Urushi's tail._

_"He didn't say anything?" Iruka asked._

_"Not a word. He's been like that, all night," Pakkun grumbled. "We tried talking to him, but he just ignored us."_

"Food is served, Iruka-sensei." Iruka looked up, watching as Kakashi walked out of the kitchen holding two plates. He grabbed hold of his blanket and tossed it to the other side of the couch, making room for the jonin.

"Thank you," he said, but his voice barely reached above a whisper. He took his plate from Kakashi, and Kakashi sat down, crossing his legs. The jonin leaned back, hanging his arm over the back of the couch. Iruka sat back as well, trying to will the blush from his face. With Bull, Akino, and Bisuke taking up most of the couch, his proximity to the other man was alarmingly close. He could feel Kakashi-san's arm on the back of his neck and grew bewildered when a wet sensation seeped into his hair.

"Kakashi-san," Iruka leaned forward, staring at the man's arm. "Are you wet?"

"Eh?" Kakashi-san tilted his head. "Oh… I had a few errands to run, this morning."

"Hey!" Pakkun ran from under the coffee table and jumped in-between them. "Where's our food?" he barked, baring his teeth.

"In the kitchen," Kakashi drawled, tilting his head to the right. Iruka felt the weight collapse beneath his arm, as Bull climbed off the couch, and all eight dogs rushed towards the kitchen.

"Food!" He heard Guruko cry.

"Maa…You'd think they were being starved, with the way they act," Kakashi sighed.

Iruka chuckled, unable to help himself. His uneasiness forced it out of him. He stared at the plate in his hands, as it brimmed with marvelous dishes he wasn't even aware Kakashi-san knew how to cook. He picked up his utensils, dug in, and learned that Kakashi-san had superb culinary skills. Here was another talent the jonin could add to his resume, along with being a superb fighter and a great leader. Iruka's cooking was okay but never tasted this good.

He had nothing else going for him, now.

Kakashi reached up, pulling his mask down, and, from that moment on, Iruka kept his gaze downward, watching as the contents slowly disappeared from his plate.

"Is it good, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka nodded, producing a slight grin. "It's delicious, Kakashi-san. Thank you."

_"What the hell is wrong with him?" Pakkun growled, pacing back and forth._

_"I honestly don't know," Iruka said in response. Although he had an idea of what the reason might be, the chunin refused to entertain that the two incidents were related. That was that selfish thinking again, the kind that had Iruka believing he somehow meant something to the Hokage._

_He shut his bedroom door and sat on the edge of his bed, eyeing the pack wearily. "I was with Yamato-san, tonight."_

_"What?" Eight pairs of eyes stared at him blankly. Iruka sat back, accused._

_"Why?" Bull asked._

_Iruka frowned. "Why not?"_

_Pakkun jumped in, "Why were you with Yamato-san?"_

_"I was on my way home when we bumped into each other. He offered to treat me to Ichiraku's."_

_"Is that all?"_

_"Yes." What else was there? The ninken looked at him as though he'd, single-handedly, destroyed the Hidden Leaf. "We went to Ichiraku's, and then Kakashi-san showed up."_

_"WHAT!"_

_"Keep your voices down!" Iruka hissed, looking around. "It's late… Kakashi-san is sleeping."_

_Pakkun snorted. "No he's not."_

_"He's not sleeping?"_

_"No," Pakkun shook his head. "We're his ninken. We've known him all his life; since the day he was born: before he could walk or talk and did little else but drool and babble nonsense. Trust me when I say we can tell when he is and isn't doing something. He's upset about something, Iruka-sensei, and that's a fact."_

_Iruka stared down at his bedspread, flustered. He looked toward his door but was really looking past it, to the jonin lying on his couch, in the dark, and with nothing more than a blanket to keep him sheltered from the growing cold. So he was a bleeding heart… Iruka didn't care, even when it was his prime tormentor he worried about._

_"Pakkun."_

_"What's up, young pup?"_

_Iruka patted Pakkun on the head, smiling sadly. "This is going to sound strange, but I need a favor from you all."_

_"Anything, Iruka," Pakkun said, before turning to his brothers. "Right guys?"_

_"Of course!"_

_"Absolutely."_

_"Whatever you need, Iruka."_

_Iruka looked back towards the door, sighing. "This will probably sound ridiculous, but, I don't want Kakashi-san to be alone tonight. I agree with you, Pakkun. I felt something was wrong when he left Ichiraku's. I just…I just don't know what."_

_"You don't?"Pakkun asked, the other ninken mirroring his disbelief._

_"Should I?"_

_Pakkun shook his head, causing his ears to flap up and down. "Never mind that, youngster." The pug hopped off the bed, circling around. "I'll go keep Kakashi company. I've been giving him a bit of the cold shoulder lately, anyway."_

_"I'll go, too," Akino said, leaping off the bed._

_"So will I," Urushi griped, obviously reluctant to leave. Iruka offered him an encouraging smile and a pat on the head, as he passed by to climb off the bed._

_Iruka turned towards the rest of the pack._

_"Any more volunteers?" They looked to him with dread. "It's just for tonight… You're his ninken and, like Pakkun said, you guys know him best."He could tell he was swaying the ninken, if only a little. Only Guruko appeared hell-bent on staying put, lowering his against the mattress and whimpering._

_Finally, Iruka heard a deep groan and a shrug of burly black shoulders. "I guess I'll go and keep the boss company, too," Bull said, rising from the bed. Bisuke slipped off his back but quickly huddled against Shiba and closed his eyes._

_"Thank you, Bull," Iruka said. Bull came forward, raising a paw against Iruka's shoulder. Then he came down, lapping the side of Iruka's face with his giant, pink tongue. The mattress dipped, as Bull hopped off. Iruka turned to stare at the four tails of wagging dogs on his bedroom floor._

_"So it's split," Pakkun said, making the same observation as Iruka. "Four of us will go to Kakashi, and four us will stay with you. Is that alright?" Iruka nodded, pleased with the idea. Pakkun, Urushi, Akino, and Bull brushed by him one last time, and Iruka gave them each a stroke behind the ears to wish them a good night. "Good night, Iruka-sensei."_

_"Goodnight, Pakkun. I hope you guys enjoyed yourself, today."_

_"We had a blast," Bull grumbled, his jowls lifting into a smile. "Pakkun almost fell off the side of the mountain."_

_"That's because you and Guruko got together and tried to push me off the side of the mountain," the pug snapped back._

_Iruka turned on Guruko, angrily. The once steadfast dog now cowered and moped. "Oh come on. Why do you guys always try and pin the bad stuff on me?"_

_"Maybe it's because you're the one that's always doing bad things," Uhei calmly suggested._

_Guruko crawled forward, his tail between his legs, planting his head on top of Iruka's lap. He looked to the jonin with doe-like eyes but they gleamed with mirth. "If you guys keep making me out to be such a baddy, I may have to retire my title as Iruka's Favorite Dog."_

_"Iruka's favorite dog?" Pakkun scoffed. "Iruka doesn't have a favorite…"_

_"That's right," Iruka nodded, smiling._

_"…unless it's me."Iruka pinched the bridge of his nose, and the ninken went up in uproar, arguing over who was his most favorite ninken. The chunin sighed, as this was not the first time he'd heard this argument._

_He decided to put a swift end to it before it could escalate…like last time. "Alright, alright. That's enough! Pakkun, Guruko," he looked to them both, "you both know damn well that I don't favor any one of you over the next. I care for you all equally."_

_"See? I told you," Pakkun snickered, jumping into Iruka's lap. Iruka stood, catching Pakkun mid-leap._

_"You're just as bad as Guruko," he said miserably._

_"What's that supposed to mean?" Guruko moped. The other hounds laughed, watching Iruka hold Pakkun under the arms like a little child._

_Iruka carried him to the door. "I don't know about you, Pakkun, but I'm tired. How about you all postpone this debate, preferably, for when I'm not around," he said, setting the pug by the door._

_Pakkun chuckled, giving his snickering brothers the evil eye. "I guess this can be postponed for another time."_

_"Good."_

_Iruka opened the door, just a sliver– enough to allow four canines out. Each passed him by, nodding him another one last goodnight. Iruka closed the door after them. Then he closed his eyes and opened them again, before turning to glower at the remaining four._

_"Sleep. Now," he said, his tone leaving no room for shenanigans._

_The ninken made space for him, pulling the covers back and pawing his pillow. Iruka buried himself beneath the sheets and the ninken surrounded him. Guruko climbed beneath his arm, Uhei lay up against his back, Bisuke took up the empty spot of Iruka's pillow, and Shiba rested his head against the chunin's legs._

_Iruka closed his eyes, eager to fall into a deep sleep._

"Iruka-sensei."

"Mm?"

"If you're finished, I can take your plate in for you."

"Oh…thanks." Iruka handed Kakashi-san his empty plate. Kakashi stacked the two empty dishes together and proceeded to the kitchen. His was wearing his mask again, but Iruka couldn't remember him pulling it back up. "The meal was delicious, Kakashi-san." Iruka thanked him again, just as Kakashi put the two plates in the sink and turned on the faucet.

"Thanks," Kakashi said.

"This is good, boss," Bull said, but Iruka could see only his backside, protruding from the kitchen.

"Is there more?"

Iruka knew that only Guruko would ask that.

"There's plenty more."

"Kakashi-san?"

Kakashi looked up, curiosity in his eye, and Iruka nearly bulked. But he kept his eyes trained on the other man, determined to communicate his thoughts. He could feel his face flushing, reddening with nervousness. He was mortified and brimming with anxiety. Kakashi-san waited for him to speak, but his composure and patience caused Iruka a moment's hesitance.

"Ma…what is it, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka swallowed hard, mustering his courage and setting doubt aside.

"I need to speak with you," he stated firmly, his eyes falling to the ninken at Kakashi-san's feet, "privately."

Kakashi-san nodded his cooperation, something Iruka waited with baited breath to never expect. He might not have known the jonin as well as his ninken did, but he knew Kakashi-san had a knack for avoiding serious discussion. He was surprised by the other man's cooperation and equally shocked by what the jonin did next.

Kakashi stepped over his ninken and opened the front door. "Get out," he said.

Iruka's mouth fell open.

"You're kicking us out?" Urushi sneered. "You can't kick us out."

"I can and I will." The ninken growled. "Iruka-sensei would like to speak with me, privately."

"You petulant child," Pakkun grumbled. "We'll just see what Iruka has to say about –"

"OUT." Kakashi blocked Iruka's view of them, pointing out the door, and Iruka heard a shuffle of paws echo out into the outside hall.

"We'll just wait right here," Pakkun proclaimed vehemently. "Kakashi, you better not do anything stup–"

Kakashi shut the door, cutting Pakkun off. Then he turned, leaning against it.

"You didn't have to kick them out," Iruka said.

Kakashi shrugged. "You said you wanted to speak with me, privately."

Iruka pointed towards the bedroom. "They could have gone into the bedroom!" he snapped. "They're going to get wet!"

"Ne," Kakashi breathed, "you heard Pakkun. They should be fine, so long as they stay by the door." Iruka rubbed his temple, chuckling. "Does something amuse you, Iruka-sensei?"

"Yes," Iruka shot back. "You. Your actions are so typical, Kakashi-san. It's pouring outside, but you don't think twice about that, do you?"

"What's done is done, Iruka-sensei. In any case, they've been through worse."

"That doesn't make them immune, Kakashi-san," Iruka glared, following him with a heated stare. "That doesn't make it necessary. So they've suffered through worse…why do they have to suffer at all, now?"

Kakashi shoved his hands into his pockets, stepping closer.

"Are you mad, Iruka-sensei?"

"No. I'm upset."

"With me?"

"Why did you come back, last night?" Iruka blurted out. The question had been resting on the tip of his tongue, for some time now. He needed to spit it out before it consumed him. "Nothing has changed –I haven't changed my mind. You disrespected me. You undermined me, in front of my superiors. You don't appreciate any of the work I do for you, which is a lot. I'm overwhelmed, Kakashi-san!" he finished, pitifully.

"I know."

"Do you?" Iruka was incredulous. "Because I don't think you do…"

"Iruka-sensei…" Kakashi paused, leaning up against the counter. Out of the corner of his eye Iruka watched him, well aware of that indolent stare. "Why didn't you tell me you stopped teaching at the Academy?" Iruka sucked in a breath, surprised. "That information isn't hard to discover, Iruka-sensei. It's public record."

"I haven't taught for a week and a half now. What difference does that make?"

"You didn't tell me, Iruka-sensei."

"I didn't think you would care," Iruka admitted, but he regretted it instantly. "Izumo's been helpful enough to substitute my class," he continued, looking away. "That's what you assigned him to do, isn't it? Help me?"

Silence overcame the chunin. Suddenly, the rain pounding against his roof consumed the silence, drowning out his thoughts. He refused to look back at Kakashi-san, believing to have seen hurt etched into the jonin's brow. Perhaps Iruka had imagined it, but he felt guilty, nonetheless. Making Kakashi-san feel bad was not his intention. He just wanted him to understand the grief he'd put him through.

"Iruka-sensei."

Iruka didn't respond, afraid to believe that that was grief in Kakashi-san's tone.

"I was a chunin by age six. You know this. During my exam, lords and politicians from all over the country filled the arena to bet on me. Everyone wanted to see that child prodigy, the White Fang's son, live up to the legend of his father. I was hell-bent on living up to the expectations my father managed to undo in one simple act."

"That's not true," Iruka spoke out, but he didn't dare look up.

"By Konoha's standards, he had. So I made sure to prove that I was better. I made jonin at thirteen, taking on S-rank missions with the Yondaime. Shinobi respected me, because I had strength, admired me, because I was young, but they all despised me beneath their breath. And when I stopped caring about the opinions of others, I realized that what I hated more than anything else was their adulation. They showered me with dishonesty, always telling me what they thought I wanted to hear. It makes for spotty teamwork, for one thing. It's difficult for a team leader to form strategy when his soldiers only ever agree with him."

"What are you trying to tell me, Kakashi-san," Iruka breathed, growing more and more distraught. He just wanted the jonin to get to the point. "What could I possibly glean from this? That you're better than me?"

He looked up, at last, surprised to see anger in Kakashi's silver orb.

"Iruka-sensei…" Iruka shivered, tugging a few strands of loose hair behind his right ear. "You wanted to know why I came back."

"How could any of this information explain why you came back?"

"Because you never tell me what you think I want to hear."

The wind bellowed from outside, beating rain and tree branches against the window. This disturbance, however, was nothing, compared to the pounding in Iruka's chest.

"What?"

"I said–"

"I know what you said," Iruka barked. The chunin shot from the couch but found nothing to say. He was stuck trying to catch up with his racing heart. He could only stare at the Hokage as fear overwhelmed him. Kakashi-san pushed off the counter but Iruka took a nervous step back, stopping the jonin in his tracks. "Kakashi-san…"

"Disrespecting you was never my intention, Iruka-sensei. Finding an honest person that is willing to tolerate an elite jonin is a rare occurrence…and Pakkun says I don't want to lose that."

"Pakkun said this," Iruka asked, the question slow to escape him.

"Yes," Kakashi shrugged, "and I agreed."

Iruka froze.

The jonin stepped forward again. "I don't want to lose this."

"What is this?" Iruka asked, standing his ground.

Kakashi stopped, leaving a few good inches between them. His eye never looked anywhere far from the chunin. "I had a talk with Izumo and Kotetsu, and there's been a change in approach. I don't want either of them substituting for you," he paused. Iruka bared his teeth, preparing to strike down Kakashi-san's delusion that he had any say on who did and who didn't help substitute his class. "Starting tomorrow, things are going to go back to the way they were."

Iruka did not expect to hear that.

"What do you mean?"

Then Kakashi-san smiled, or, Iruka thought he smiled, as least. "Your place is in the classroom, Iruka-sensei. That's where you're needed the most. You're the only Academy instructor to ever have an entire class of students make it on a team. Your current students deserve the same attentiveness shown to your former students, and it would be negligent of me to deprive them of that."

Iruka was hesitant to ask, but to hear the Hokage say those things made him hopeful and yet fearful all at once. "What are you saying?"

Kakashi's eye bore into him.

"I can't take you away from where you belong, Iruka-sensei. Izumo and Kotetsu's work hours are far more accommodating. They can do more good at the office and in the missions room."

"Are you firing me?" Iruka blinked.

"Not at all," Kakashi said quickly. "I would appreciate your input, from time to time. I still need your help."

"You don't need my help –"

"Fine," Kakashi-san shot back, his voice rising from its typically cool nature. "I want your help, Iruka-sensei. I don't want another to assist me. I don't want Kotetsu and Izumo, but if this is the only way to keep you, then so be it."

He wanted him? Iruka stared at Kakashi-san, never having seen desperation on the man's face. He thought he saw it now, though, staring back at him, but he shook that thought away. He refused to lose sight of the real problem.

"You think this is just about the workload?"

Kakashi stepped back, perplexed. "You admitted to feeling overwhelmed, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka laughed, clasping his hands together. He felt like a madman, trying his hardest not to reach out and violently shake the jonin. "Kakashi-san, I like working for you. I do. I wish I didn't, but I do. I like being able to help the Hokage– I always have, but this is not just a duty to the village for me. I like helping you, Kakashi-san. I enjoy your company! I like having you here, with me, and I love having the dogs –"

"Ninken –"

"WHATEVER! I want them here, with me. Kakashi-san," Iruka paused, taking a deep breath. "I can manage the work, but I need you to help me help you. When I come to you with work, don't dismiss me because I'm interrupting your training. Don't put me down in front of others." Iruka slapped a hand against his forehead, dragging it down his face. "I sound like a lunatic," he muttered, shaking his head.

"I always thought you were a bit strange, Iruka-sensei."

"You're one to talk," Iruka snorted. "With all due respect, you drive me crazy, Kakashi-san." He tried to walk away but was just as quickly tugged back. Kakashi-san held him by the shoulder, and Iruka felt the coldness of his hand seep into the fabric of his shirt. The chunin frowned, glaring at Kakashi-san's damp clothes.

"I do believe that's something I owe you more... Respect," Kakashi-san uttered. Iruka reached up, pulling Kakashi-san's hand from his shoulder. He didn't take it away but merely held onto it, gently squeezing the clammy appendage.

"Don't take advantage of me… okay?"

"Okay."

Iruka squeezed his hand again, before letting go.

"Good," he said, closing his eyes. "Now… let the ninken back in, and I'll go find you some dry clothes you can put on," he sighed, producing a deranged grin.

"As you wish, Iruka-sensei." Kakashi-san smiled, bowing quickly.

Iruka rolled his eyes, watching the jonin make his way to the door. Then he made his own departure, heading back to his bedroom. The chunin searched through his pant and shirt drawers, knowing he'd eventually come across a pair of pants and a shirt that wasn't his but, in fact, the jonin's. When he found just that, he felt a sense of accomplishment.

"Kakashi-san, you're in luck," Iruka called out from the hallway. "You keep leaving your clothes here, so whenever you …" then he halted, gaping at the eight, soaking wet dogs sitting on his living room carpet.

The chunin dropped Kakashi-san's clothes.

"What the hell happened?"

The ninken stood in rows of two, four in each; from biggest to smallest, and they were all as equally drenched as the next one. Every now and then, one of them would shake, flinging water drops all over the walls and furniture. Iruka knelt down, picking up Kakashi-san's clothes. To bide for more time, and to sooth his growing rage, he closed his eyes and counted to three.

"It's fr-freakin' freezing out there," Pakkun chattered.

Iruka looked to his water damaged floor, misery washing over him. "What happened to staying by the door?" he groaned, but the reason seemed absolutely useless at this point.

"It's s-so lively o-out there," Pakkun chattered on. "W-we couldn't h-help o-ourselves, and w-we got a little c-c-c-carried away."

Not to mention, Iruka knew the reason would be stupid.

"Ah… there you are, Iruka-sensei." As if on cue, Kakashi-san peered out from the kitchen.

Iruka stuttered with disbelief, not knowing what to do with himself.

"Why didn't you keep them outside?"

"Maa…You said you wanted them inside," Kakashi explained. "Ah, my clothes," he said cheerfully, taking the attire from the traumatized chunin. "I'll just go change, then…" Kakashi strolled away, but Iruka went to work, rushing to the hallway closet to acquire as many towels as he deemed necessary.

"Get up, get up, get up, get up," he ordered, herding the ninken into the kitchen. At least their dripping wetness would be more easily cleaned from a tile floor. He immediately went about setting down the towels, making sure to soak up as much water as possible. "Stay put," he threw over his shoulder.

"We-we're s-s-sorry!" Guruko squeaked, but the chunin refused to respond to any apologies.

"S-so, what d-did y-you guys t-talk about?" Bisuke managed.

Iruka flung a towel and turned, causing the dogs to flinch.

"You never mind that!" he snapped. "Concern yourself with what I'll do to you if mildew starts growing under the carpet." Iruka turned back, sitting on his knees. He dabbed, repeatedly, drying up the carpet as best as he could.

"D-did you a-ask h-him why he w-was upset l-last night?" Pakkun grumbled, subdued by the impending wrath of Umino Iruka.

Iruka paused, eyeing the ninken guiltily. The towel in his hand went limp.

"I forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"Kakashi-san…!" The chunin looked up, startled. "That was fast."

Kakashi-san shrugged, scratching the back of his head. "What did you forget, Iruka-sensei?" he asked again.

Iruka waved a dismissive hand.

"Nothing important…just that I have some mats I could have put out, to avoid this."

"Mm."

Iruka went back to rubbing his carpet dry. Only when he saw a pair of pale hands pick up another towel did he stop again. He looked to his right, where Kakashi-san knelt down beside him.

"I'm helping," the jonin said, smiling. Iruka smiled back, but he quickly went back to work. This was the only carpet he was going to have, after all, and that meant keeping it clean for as long as possible. Especially since hiring someone to clean or replace it would be out of his price range for some time. So he kept dabbing, every now and then affording Kakashi a side glance. The older man seemed just as determined to keep his floor from getting ruined. "Here," the jonin said, handing Iruka another towel. "This one's dry."

"Thanks," Iruka said, taking the towel. Kakashi leaned forward again but Iruka didn't start back right away, opting to watch the jonin next to him. Not that it was rare, but catching Kakashi-san engaged in manual labor always came as a novelty to the chunin. It happened, though: he would cook, and Kakashi would volunteer to tidy up the kitchen. He kept the living room spotless and the ninken clean. True, Iruka found many of the jonin's cleaning methods a bit sloppy and unethical, but he didn't mind sharing that burden.

"You know, I don't thank you enough for all that you do here."

"Maa...you don't?"

"No." Iruka shook his head and sat back. He sighed, accepting that there was nothing more he could do. He pulled a few fallen strands of hair back behind his ear. At least the glaringly obvious soakage had subsided. Iruka watched Kakashi-san, eyeing the jonin and his persistence. "Kakashi-san, why didn't you stay?"

"…Mm?" The jonin reached for another towel.

"Last night, when you treated us to a round, you didn't stay. How come?"

"Maa," Kakashi-san leaned back as well, looking over his shoulder. Iruka saw only a profile of his face, hidden beneath a blue mask and headband. "I got the impression I wasn't very welcomed," he said.

"Oh." Iruka stared down, at his hands that were now moist and cold. "I'm sorry you felt that way."

A crop of silver hair tilted in response.

"Though, I was curious," the jonin said.

"About what?" the chunin asked.

"You and Yamato. I wasn't aware the two of you were better acquainted." Kakashi-san leaned down again, leaving Iruka to stare blankly at his over-arching shoulders.

"We're not," he replied, frowning. "Yamato-san thought we should get to know each other, so he offered to treat me to a meal."

"I was going to treat you to a meal."

"You did."

"Ne…" Kakashi leaned back again, shaking his head. "That's why I was there. I wanted to make up for the night before, so I thought buying dinner would put me back in your good graces."

Iruka smirked, his brow arching. "Like last time, you mean?"

"It worked last time…why change what's effective?"

"Why indeed," Iruka said, chuckling. "Although, the meal you made this morning was better than any ramen bowl I've ever eaten."

"Was it?"

"Yes. It was," Iruka nodded.

"How did you learn to cook so well?" Iruka asked. Shinobi like Kakashi-san, who lived off mission rations for most of their career, weren't known for their culinary skills. Good tasting food didn't factor into survival, which had to be why ration bars and energy pellets tasted so foul. Iruka believed mission food deadened the taste buds, thus, deadening the ability to distinguish between food made to maintain stamina and food made to be enjoyed.

Kakashi-san must have figured out how to combine the two necessities.

"…The same way I presumed you did, Iruka-sensei," Kakashi replied. "I was orphaned, and there was no one to take care of me. So I took care of myself."

"Of course," Iruka muttered, troubled at the memory. His recollection of raising himself was a troublesome thought. Growing up alone… "At least you had the ninken, Kakashi-san. Some kind of family has to be better than no family at all."

"I agree," Kakashi said. "Ma…does Take have any family?"

"Take? Not that I know… Why?"

"Just curious, is all…"

Iruka stared at Kakashi. He doubted the jonin was just curious about anything, especially when he was so adamant about being indifferent. But Iruka leaned forward, playing along. He reached across Kakashi-san, grabbing hold of another towel. "Did you happen to run into him, Kakashi-san?"

“I may have...bumped into him," the jonin muttered, "for a few minutes or so. Maybe just a minute. Not even a minute– just a second, if I recall correctly."

Iruka smirked. "And what did the two of you say to each other, in this second?"

Kakashi-san turned to look at him. With their faces so near, Iruka could clearly see the outline of a smile underneath his mask. It caused his breath to fall short and his heart to upstart its beating. It was then he realized how close they really were, kneeling side-by-side, their arms brushing up against each other, elbows linked, and Iruka could feel the sway of Kakashi-san's body.

"…Take said that you said that I was one of the greatest shinobi of our time. He also said that you said that I was brilliant."

Iruka's cheeks were burning now. He thought that his face might catch fire.

Kakashi leaned forward, his one visible eye sufficient enough to search Iruka's pair. "Mm, did you say those things, Iruka-sensei?"

"I said those things." Iruka swallowed hard.

Kakashi-san's eye shifted downward. "Did you mean what you said, Iruka-sensei?"

"Yes…" Kakashi-san looked up again, the intensity of his gaze strengthening. Iruka wanted to look anywhere but at the man's probing stare, but he didn't. Easily readable, easily read, the chunin felt exposed to the legendary Copy Nin, and yet he remained determined to meet the jonin halfway. "I meant everything I told him, Kakashi-san."

"After the way I've treated you, would you still think that…"

"Regardless of how you've treated me, Kakashi-san. That doesn't change the truth." Iruka frowned, pinching back an earlobe. "I mean, I wish it did. I could have told him that you have a knack for being an inconsiderate, juvenile, self-centered ass, although, that hardly does justice to all the good in you," the chunin sulked, but he had to bite his bottom lip to stop from grinning.

Kakashi's brow ascended into his hairline. "Well, I'm glad you decided to go with the former, then..."

A very loud, very gruff cough caught their attention. Iruka and Kakashi sat back against their legs, simultaneously, amused by the way Pakkun's fur stood on end.

"Well, it's n-nice to see the two of you remember we exist!" he growled.

"I don't recall remembering you exist," Kakashi said skeptically, tapping his chin. He turned to Iruka. "Do you, Iruka-sensei?"

"I have no idea what it's talking about." Iruka shrugged and closed his eyes. "Ninken come and go, you know…you can't expect me to know their names, much less remember they exist."

"Iruka," Pakkun whimpered, lowering his jowls against his front paws. "Why do you have to be so cruel? You're turning into him?" he whined, glaring at Kakashi-san.

"Eight dogs, all of whom knew they were soaking wet, decided to prance into my home and soil the carpet."

"B-b-but Kakashi! He let us in!"

"Ne…don't bring me into this," Kakashi-san sighed lazily.

Iruka crossed his arms and scoffed. "Unlike Kakashi-san, I expect consideration and some actual thought process from you."

Kakashi-san's shoulders sunk. "Why do you have to be so cruel, Iruka-sensei?"

"Kakashi-san," Iruka said sharply, gaining the Hokage's undivided attention. "The ninken need to be washed before they end up drying like that."

"Right." Kakashi-san stood, collecting as many soiled towels along the way, while Iruka's stern gaze followed him into the kitchen. "Listen up," the jonin began, leaning against the kitchen counter. "The longer it takes you to get from here to the bathroom, the more water you track. The more water you track, the angrier Iruka-sensei will be. The angrier Iruka-sensei is, well…you're on your own, after that. So I advise you run, faster than you have ever ran in your entire life."

They were a blur to Iruka, racing by at top speeds. Only when the last frenzied tail disappeared into the bathroom did their well composed human settle at his side.

"I'll have them cleaned up in no time, Iruka-sensei."

"Thank you," Iruka said, picking up another towel. "Oh, I almost forgot." Kakashi-san turned, with hands in pockets. "Yamashiro-san came by the office, yesterday. He said he needed to speak with you, urgently."

The carefree stare on Kakashi-san's face turned, strained in a way that Iruka couldn't explain.

"Did he explain why?"

But, of course, the jonin's voice remained cool and calm.

Iruka frowned. "N-no…but he urged that he speak with you, A-S-A-P."

“That's good." Kakashi nodded, walking away.

"Kakashi-san?"

Kakashi-san stopped again. "Yes, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka watched him tentatively, his worry now melding with his curiosity.

"What really happened to your robes?" he asked.

Kakashi-san turned, one last time, and smiled. He reached behind his head, in that usual nervous manner of his, and ruffled what silver strands weren't limp with water.

"I set them on fire," he said.

Then he strolled away and out of sight.

Iruka sat in a daze. The bathroom door shut close long before the chunin realized he was gaping at nothing but an empty hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. :)


	16. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi takes inaction on a potentially looming threat before returning to Iruka with new developments in toe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Terrible chapter summary, I know. So for those who are keeping score and know what happens at the end of Naruto, I'll be handling a certain character's ending differently, because I absolutely care so very little for him, but I do intend to keep true to some canon as best as this plot will allow me (which I want to do, for some reason...).

"We found these near the Hatake compound," Aoba said, his face twisted in a vehemence Kakashi could not emulate for several reasons. Still, he looked down, eyeing Konoha's security squad's new find with feigned interest. "Can you confirm that these are yours, Kakashi-san?"

"Am I wearing them, Aoba-san?"

"Mm." Yamashiro Aoba glanced at the Rokudaime, eyeing his jonin attire with some consideration. "We had to be certain," he answered. "Someone could have easily replicated the design to advance their agenda."

"Which would have been?"

"We weren't certain of that, just yet."

Both men looked back to the examination table. Aoba looked absolutely flustered, much to Kakashi's amusement. The two Anbu keeping guard— though their faces remained hidden beneath their respective animal aliases, Kakashi could tell from their statuesque posture that they felt this matter crucial.

Mitarashi Anko, however, appeared disinterested, sitting cross-legged on a nearby chair. Every now and then, she would produce a rather noisy sigh and repeatedly prop her chin on the palm of her hand.

"The desecration of any property or possession owned by a previous or sitting Hokage, symbolic or otherwise, is a national offense. Such dishonor is to be met with swift punishment that is equal to the severity of the damage as well as the intent."

Kakashi nodded along, having had Konoha's laws and penal code scolded into his mind during his Academy days. He reached down, pinching a few charred, water damaged remains between his thumb and index finger. "What do you believe was the intent of this, Aoba-san?"

"Don't touch it," the older man chided, disturbed by the breach in protocol. "This is evidence and shouldn't be contaminated until further analysis."

Kakashi frowned. One lazy eye gazed at what remained of his Hokage apparel, and the torched batch of straw wearing them. To say that his contempt for the garbs was ill-concealed would have been an understatement. "But they're my clothes. Regardless of who has tampered with them, it is safe to say my prints are all over them, already."

"True," Aoba agreed, "but for the sake of keeping accurate data, we shouldn't confuse the chain of evidence. From what we've examined, so far, there's no question that the perpetrator had fashioned this scarecrow into your likeness, so as to use you as his "opponent"," Aoba paused, eyeing the burlap sack that was the scarecrow's patchy, crooked face with disgust.

"There's also the matter of how the perpetrator came into possession of your robes, Kakashi-san."

Aoba hid a piercing stare behind the tinted lens of his goggles, silently questioning how something as personal as someone's clothes ended up in the hands of other people.

"Ma…that's a query," Kakashi hummed.

"It's a serious inquiry, one we should give a thorough investigation. I find it hard to believe a theft would go over the Hokage's head, especially, theft of the very clothes he's wearing."

"Well, I think I can explain that," Kakashi gripped his chin. "I've been wearing my Hokage robes far less, lately, which would give anyone ample opportunity to take them from me."

"That theory would suggest that the culprit has access to your private quarters, Kakashi-san, where you frequent, and where you live." Aoba adjusted his drooping goggles and sighed. "And, as you are our national figurehead, the disturbance of those properties and their artifacts is a matter of national security."

"It's quite possible that this culprit broke into my apartment, suffered through a series of mortally fatal traps, and managed to come out, unscathed, having stolen my clothes only to use my likeness for target practice." Kakashi looked away.

Aoba furrowed his brow. "It's difficult to tell when you're being facetious, Kakashi-san."

"I'm being facetious," Kakashi clarified.

Anko snorted, her distant chuckles muffled against her hand.

"Still," Kakashi continued, shrugging his hands into his pockets. "That someone would have the opportunity to break into my private quarters is the most logical conclusion, Aoba-san." He offered a serious response, knowing that such a humorless man as Aoba would only tolerate his brand of humor for so long. "In the last few months, I can honestly say that I've inhabited my home less than a few dozen occasions and for only a short period at a time."

Anko jumped off the table, approaching. "Don't you ever sleep?" she scoffed.

"Glad to see you've finally decided to join us," Aoba stated, his voice tight. "Although, it would be refreshing to see some ounce of formality out of you…"

"He doesn't care," the purple-haired woman said, pointing a thumb back in Kakashi's direction.

"She's right," Kakashi shrugged. "I don't care. What's she doing here?"

The tokubetsu jonin gripped her hips and rolled her eyes. "Believe me, if I knew it was gonna be this boring I would have never showed up. I'm hoped to get something out of this," she grinned.

Kakashi lifted a fine silver brow, eyeing Anko with great caution. He'd known her, for many years, to be a proficient tracker and a superb kunoichi. She was also the most outrageously tiring woman he'd ever met, and that left him both intrigued and annoyed to see her.

"I'd just like to take this opportunity to congratulate you on making it to Hokage, Kakashi-san."

"Ne…you make it sound like I auditioned or something."

"Well, you do look the part, looking all handsome and whatnot, standing on that balcony," she cooed, leaning forward and winking.

"A member of Anko-san's squad found the scarecrow, this morning," Aoba sighed, forcefully.

Anko straightened up, glaring at the older man.

"Yeah, alright," she groused, looking back to the Hokage. "Cam-'corders and other security measures are prohibited from clan grounds, you see," Anko scowled at the thought, "but no worry. Folks from the marketplace said they could see smoke rising from the south, before the rain started and snuffed it out. Also, security intel picked up two chakra signatures, last night, roaming the surrounding forest. Whoever's behind this won't be at large for very long."

"That's nice," Kakashi said. "Two signatures?"

"Two," Anko nodded, holding up two fingers. "If any others existed, they were skillfully concealed. The two that we did pick up were laughably ill-disguised, if disguised at all." She smirked, circling Kakashi like a common predator. "Wherever you spend your time must be a hell of a place, if a couple of morons were given ample time to break into your apartment."

"If I may ask, Kakashi-sama…" Aoba interjected, eyeing Anko with unrestrained annoyance. "What is the status of your home?"

"In what regard?" Kakashi said.

"Even if the Hokage spends most of his time at the office," Kakashi mentally cringed, "his estate should remain a stronghold of security. Considering it's you, Kakashi-san, I didn't think this would be a concern."

"Ne…?" Kakashi ran a hand through his hair. "I wasn't aware that it was."

"Your apartment complex, on the north end of the village."

"What about it?"

"Is that your permanent residence?"

"Yes."

"But you're never home."

"No."

"From what I gathered yesterday, you're rarely at the office."

"Too right you are."

"Then where are you, Kakashi-san?"

The jonin gazed idly at the man, but both Aoba and Anko watched him, expecting some kind of answer. To teammates, to colleagues, to his Anbu squad and even his genin team, curiosity over his whereabouts was a common experience. It was also very common of him to lie; make an excuse, provide an anecdote that, usually, had absolutely nothing to do with anything at all. He thought about doing the same, now, not at all obligated to reveal where he chose to spend his time. Where it was once the Memorial Stone or roaming the outskirts of Konoha or at his apartment, taking an extensive amount of time out of his day to read his Icha Icha, it was not the Memorial stone or his home but at Iruka's place where he now spent most of his time.

Kakashi believed the chunin to be a rather open individual. Iruka liked to spend his free time with crowds and enjoyed the company of others, more so than Kakashi himself, so much more that there was a time, after the war, when Kakashi would listen to the Academy sensei relay his day working with mutual acquaintances with severe disinterest. Still, in some strange twist of irony, Kakashi learned that Iruka proved to be a very private person, as well.

Aoba was taking this very seriously, therefore, lying would be an imprudent decision that would, most likely, result in hours of wasted manpower. He could not also shrug this off as he usually would, knowing that he was not alone but, in fact, speaking for the whereabouts of two people: himself and Iruka, and he doubted the chunin would appreciate his home falling under the scrutiny of Konoha's intelligence division.

"That's none of your concern," Kakashi finally said. His gaze deadened, shifting between the interrogator and tokubetsu jonin.

"Fair enough," Aoba said, not at all put-off. "However, you must be aware of the Anbu squadron assigned to track your every step. Surely it would do no harm to provide an assigned security squad a blueprint of your daily routine."

"Anbu live by a code of silence," Kakashi remarked, sharply, giving two nods of respect to the Anbu guards present. "The security squad functions under no such code, however."

"Well, there goes my fun," Anko sneered, her eyes drifting away.

Kakashi had had enough. "If there are no other important matters to attend to –"

"Kakashi, this is a matter of grave importance!"

Oh, Kakashi was just waiting to hear that line.

"Is it any coincidence that a scarecrow, clothed in your robes and meticulously made to look like an exact replica of the Rokudaime, was placed in front of the Hatake compound: beaten, battered, and burned?" Such a notion left Aoba unconvinced. "Were it simply a matter of theft, we could write this off as an isolated incident. However, it would seem that knowledge of your residence has been discovered.

"A hierarchy of security measures keep record of shinobi residents, and only personal disclosure would affect that order, but the two chakra signatures indicated by Mitarashi-san would suggest that two unskilled shinobi managed to break into your home, steal your possessions, and dishonor your family land."

"That's some coincidence," Anko commented, humorously.

"This is no isolated incident, Kakashi-san. This was symbolic, an action that might occur time and time again if we don't take necessary precautions."

"So who do you believe is behind this, Yamashiro-san?" Anko asked, a foreign strain of sternness infecting her demeanor.

Aoba's gaze shifted between the two. "A potential threat to the Hokage or Konoha, hell-bent on proving their superiority in light of the village's crippled manpower; lingering troops of Madara's followers or, perhaps, the very individual responsible for Tsunade-sama's death."

There was a well-deserved pause, where Kakashi looked between his colleagues with a considerable amount of annoyance. "You told her," he said at last.

"Hey!" Offended, Anko leaned into her hip. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here."

Aoba didn't falter. "Yes," he said, challenging the other man's stubborn, one-eyed stare. "I told her."

"It was necessary to inform a head member of the security squad," Kakashi stated, having already put the pieces together.

"Precisely. A security team has already been instructed to keep routine tabs on every entry and exit point of Konohagakure. Furthermore…" Aoba turned to Anko, some small fraction of satisfaction threatening to mar his perfectly noncommittal features. "Anko had insight on the potential murderer, insight that I believe may correspond with your undisclosed suspect, Kakashi-san."

"When Yamashiro-san spoke of foul-play, I quickly turned to the archives to see if anything showed up on tape."

"What did you find?" Kakashi asked.

Anko answered with pulling a scroll of pictures from her pocket, spreading four of them out on another examination table. Each one had been extracted from video footage, depicting a different angle of virtually the same image in a grainy resolution so to keep obscure by the standards of laymen and women. But the three varying degrees of jonin looked to the photographs, sizing up their contents for every ounce of evidence, however insignificant.

Kakashi instantly recognized the room in the photos to be the Hokage chambers; his chambers, as it was.

"There," Anko said, indicating the dark shadow captured in all four photos with the tip of her fingernail. "The subject is human, moving at an accelerated rate, which suggests highly sophisticated genetic manipulation. At regular speed, the subject appears like a phantom, much faster than even the most proficient flash-step. But frequency sensors picked up a faint chakra that was not of Tsunade-sama's, so we slowed the rate of the video and managed to get a good image at what we're looking at."

"He, or she, is wearing a hooded cloak," Kakashi said. He picked up a photo, one where the subject had, unknowingly, turned towards the camera. "What did you find out about this person?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Anko sneered, bewildering the silver haired jonin. "We ran the tapes through Digital Perspective Analysis Rendering and discovered these keys identifiers: this individual stands at a height of 5'8", weighs a girth of roughly 65kg and, from his chakra signature, was an Earth element nature type."

"Was," Kakashi repeated. Labeling the culprit as "Deceased" was a premature assumption, especially as he himself believed Tsunade's murderer to be very much alive.

"I know you're familiar with these numbers," Anko said.

Kakashi nodded. "That I am. Should I assume…?"

She nodded grimly, staring at the images. "Frequency lines, heat sensors, and affinity detectors do not lie. My team and I, along with the scientists we enlisted to assist, found it strange that a body moving at such undetectable speeds would produce a heart rate of only 7.4 beats per minute. The average low for a shinobi is 28, and that's at rest. A heart rate of 7.4 beats in an active person and, at this speed, would suggest comatose or death. So the science jocks told me the subject in these photos couldn't have lasted more than a few hours, not to mention the heat sensors also picked a body temperature so low it would have induced cardiac arrest and, eventually, death."

"The Shikon no Jutsu," Kakashi interjected. "The Dead Soul technique that creates the illusion of a living person by reanimating a corpse…such a technique is the specialty of only one user to date." He looked between his fellow jonin. "I take it this is the real reason you requested my presence."

"As I said," Aoba sighed, "the scarecrow was found earlier this morning. I came looking for you yesterday afternoon, when we discovered this lead on the nature of Tsunade-sama's death."

"Which is the real reason I'm here!" Anko said brightly.

“Meh...” Kakashi's shoulders sunk, his eye moping. “I must say I have yet to experience a meeting more misleading than this one."

"Kakashi, I can track down Kabuto and you know it!" Anko growled.

"This is not up for discussion," the jonin retaliated. "Sending another team after him will result in a fruitless effort, wasting manpower that Konoha cannot afford. Just like last time."

"W-wait a minute," Aoba cut in, his voice rising. "You suspected Yakushi Kabuto and said nothing?"

Anko side-stepped the older man, even going so far as to move in front of him and separate the two men.

"If it hadn't been for my team, last time, we would have never caught up to Kabuto's hideout. We would have never gathered enough intel to predict Madara's advance, and Yamato would have been dead, left at the hands of that snake! Kakashi, he's toying with us!" she hissed, jabbing a merciless finger against one of the photos. "He knew that, as Hokage, you'd be aware of these findings and that he chose a corpse with height, weight, and nature type similar to his own…" Anko shook her head. "He knew you would know these things about him. He wants you to know that this is his handiwork, and he's rubbing it in your face."

"And yet I'm the one who remains untroubled with the prospect of waiting," Kakashi drawled. "Yes, I suspected Kabuto," he said to Aoba, "and, as of now, the most logical strategy at our disposal is to make good use of the time we have. Kabuto's actions have proven two things: that he believes himself very much at large and that the odds are in his favor. He'll do anything and everything in his power to prove that he escaped the war, unharmed, and is growing more powerful with every passing day. The lingering remnants of Madara's followers, and worshipers of Usagi no Megami, only fuel his delusion.

"Maa…" Kakashi looked away. "Give it a week or two, and you'll see," he shrugged. "Kabuto will, most likely, have his men stage a struggle, lead a pathetic attack on the outskirts that will have Konoha teams sent out and leave the village rattled with fear of the unknown. That's when we hone in on his whereabouts that, due to his nature, will be heavily close to the incident. Anko-san."

"Mm," she nodded.

"That's when you and your team will track him down and bring him back to the village for persecution. Aoba-san."

"Kakashi-sama," Aoba nodded, coming from behind the brash woman.

"At that time, I want you and Ibiki-san to assemble your strongest team of interrogators. I want not an inch of his mind left un-probed and not an ounce of his life undiscovered. I want his privacy dismembered and his sense of security dismantled, until the mental strain drives him to insanity. I want him to wish for death, a fate we will grant in slow deliverance."

Aoba and Anko looked to each other, their wide-eyed expressions betraying their surprise.

"Ne… Can I go now?" Kakashi asked, but his feet had long since started toward the examination room's double-door exit.

"What about the scarecrow, Kakashi-san? What about the theft?" Aoba asked.

"Aoba-san, proceed as you see fit. I trust you to take all necessary safety precautions," Kakashi said, although, he would have liked nothing more than to see those clothes and that scarecrow mysteriously disappear before it ever reached evidence.

“In that case, it is imperative that you wear your war-issued, chest-guard flak jacket, to ensure further protection of your person. Not to mention it would be far more presentable than your jonin attire.”

“Eh?”

“That is my decree, considering we've yet to determine a resolution regarding this matter.”

Kakashi thought to put up a fight, albeit a lackluster one, if only on principal. Though premeditated in method, the outcome of essentially destroying his Hokage robes for use and getting to wear his jonin shinobi attire as a result was all the same.

“Fine,” Kakashi relented, happily. “Anko-san, do these tapes show the subject actively spiking Tsunade-sama's sake bottle with the strain that killed her?"

"Yes, sir," Anko nodded, her tone strained.

Kakashi threw over his shoulder, "I want copies sent to my office so that I may review them myself. Also," he paused, his gloved hands gripping the door handle. He turned, leaning on the door and eyeing the two jonin. His eye zeroed in on Anko, narrowing. "The surveillance equipment used in the Hokage's quarters… are they still active?"

The Copy Nin was satisfied to see the woman shake her head 'No'.

"They're dismantled after the replacement of every Hokage. That gives the arriving Hokage the option of whether they'd like their quarters monitored. Just say the world and I'll have a –"

"No. That won't be necessary," Kakashi said, smiling his one-eyed smile. "Thank you, Aoba-san and Anko-san, for bringing me up-to-date. Ordering other shinobi around isn't my thing, unless I'm the leader of a team, so dismiss yourself if you'd like."

On that note, the Rokudaime was gone, the double-doors shuffling close behind him; back and forth, before, eventually, coming to a stand-still.

Anko looked to Aoba, flustered. "That was both unexpected and yet, somehow, predictable," she huffed, leaning against the table.

"Agreed," Aoba said, but he didn't tear his eyes from the door, just yet. "When it was first revealed that Hatake had been nominated to become Rokudaime, I have to admit: I had my reservations. Even when convinced otherwise by superiors, I still had my doubts." Aoba turned to Anko, a noncommittal smirk curling his thin-lipped mouth. "Looks to me like Kakashi-san just might prove to be a strong leader, after all. Granted, he does have a rather uncouth way of going about things."

"So says you," Anko mumbled, staring down at the first examination table where the Rokudaime scarecrow smiled at her with a crudely drawn eye. "It's just my day, isn't it? Not only was an "All You Can Eat Dango Buffet" at the sweets shop canceled, because of this dreadful rain, but I didn't even get the mission I wanted! Wait, my ass."

Anko growled.

"Then I had to stand here and listen to Hatake Kakashi speak of torture?" Anko leaned forward, dragging her hands down her face. "I don't know about you, but that scared the crap out of me. I've never heard Hatake talk like that."

"It's the nature of the job," Aoba reasoned. "It cannot be helped."

"Whatever," Anko mumbled, slapping a hand against her mouth. "You know...people said he changed, after the war, but I never imagined how much until now."

Aoba stared at the double-doors again, with furrowed brow. "Kakashi-san had a personal interest with all parties involved, in this last war. To not have changed after the tragedies that befell him would have been unfortunate."

"If you say so…" Anko walked away. "I'll see you around, Yamashiro-san, "she waved.

"Mitarashi…wait."

"What's up?" she turned quickly, giving the older man one of her flashiest smiles.

"Follow him."

She frowned, bewildered. "What? The Rokudaime?"

"Yes."

"With a team?"

"No, no," Aoba waved the idea away. "You alone. I want you to track that man, even if he catches on; even if he sends you on a chase…" Aoba paused, reconsidering his approach. "This is still a matter of security," he said, pointing towards the scarecrow. "The security detail should have a clear idea of where Kakashi spends his time, so as to prevent any undesirable events in the future."

"Like an assassination attempt."

"Exactly."

Anko thought about it for a second, before shrugging. "Well, anyone wanting to kill that guy's definitely got their work cut out for them."

"That's not the point." Aoba waved the idea away with an even firmer hand than before. "I am requesting that you, a lead member of the squad, follow the Hokage, so that all his movements are accounted for. I don't care if he gambles or spends his days drowning in a bar, or if he spends all of his time at some brothel. Just find him and keep note of it."

"You got it." Anko saluted him off before disappearing behind the double-doors.

"Uh…" Aoba sighed, leaning up against the steel slab. He glanced at the scarecrow again, its crude and now blackened features, and rubbed a hand over his temple. "Yamanaka-san, tell me you never had to deal with anything like this?"

 

* * *

 

Kakashi took his sandals off, before stepping inside, and quickly tossed them into the kitchen. The rain had subsided, from a downpour to a light trickle, but the damage had already been done. Iruka's disdain for tracking water on the floor would pale in comparison if Kakashi was found trailing in the mud and fallen leaves of outside. An open window meant quick access, in Kakashi's apartment, but in Iruka's, and on a rainy day such as this, it spelled trouble. So he wisely made use of the door, closing it behind him.

"Your move," Pakkun said.

Iruka took a look at the board, the cogs in his mind rotating with calculated thought. That's when he made another tactful decision, putting the pug's lance in jeopardy. At the same time, the chunin found Pakkun's king under simultaneous threat. If Pakkun had any intention of winning, at this point, he'd have no other option but to save his king and sacrifice his lance.

"You're in check," Iruka smirked, unable to contain his satisfaction. He could only hope that Pakkun's next move was a hasty miscalculation.

"You sneaky youngster, you," Pakkun grumbled under his breath, pressing his paw against the king wedge. With the majority of his men off the table, or in Iruka's troop, he could easily glide his piece into its next position. For movements that required jumping, it was Iruka who assisted, equipped to do so with his opposable thumbs.

Kakashi came forward, disrobing of his flak jacket and tossing it on the kitchen counter. His bare feet sunk into the floor, where the carpet remained slightly damp but far better off than earlier that morning. He stood to the side, taking note of the imperfect circle surrounding the coffee table. Iruka sat on the floor, with his legs folded and his back up against the edge of the couch. The jonin's ninken followed suit, with Bull and Urushi flanking the chunin on both sides, while Bisuke sat in his lap. Uhei and Akino sat on either ends, leaving Shiba and Guruko to flank notoriously sore loser and Iruka's current opponent, Pakkun.

Their eyes were glued to the board, their attention possessed by the Shogi game.

The Hokage had to clear his throat in order to get someone to acknowledge his arrival. While Pakkun searched, in vain, to find a maneuver that wouldn't ruin him, Iruka glanced up, wearing the cheeky grin of a victorious player.

"You're back," Iruka said, cheerfully.

"Ma," Kakashi knelt down, "and you're winning," he hummed, taking a seat between Bull and Uhei.

"That's nothing new," Bull said, causing a fervid blush to rise in Iruka's face. "He already beat me and Guruko."

"He didn't beat me," Guruko whined. "I forfeited."

"Because you knew you were going to lose," Bull heaved, lapping his tongue over his nose.

"Your move," Pakkun grumbled, again, visibly doubtful of his previous move. That's when he realized, as Kakashi and Iruka had long ago, that he had made a miscalculation. "No, wait a second…!"

"Checkmate." Iruka had Pakkun's king cornered to where there was no move he could make to save it.

"You know what? I quit." Pakkun pounded his paw against the table, before leaping away.

"I forgot how much of a sore loser you can be, Pakkun," the chunin smiled, chuckling. Pakkun held his head up high and turned away, before climbing under the table. "Anymore challengers?" Iruka asked, but the question went without response. Kakashi saw that the idea of going up against Iruka in a game of Shogi had traumatized his ninken. They all looked away, whimpering, their gazes shifting with discomfort.

"Can I play?" Kakashi asked Iruka.

"Of course," Iruka said, smiling.

Kakashi took Pakkun's place, after Shiba and Uhei switched spots with him. He sat in the same manner as Iruka, with his legs folded, but hunched over his longer torso. The two went about resetting the table, in comfortable silence.

That's when Pakkun reappeared from beneath the table, climbing into Kakashi's lap. "The sore loser reemerges," Kakashi said, watching the pug situate himself. Iruka looked over, laughing.

"The two of you are too clever, for my blood," Pakkun stated, pressing his front paws against Kakashi's calves. "I'm never playing against either of you, ever again."

"Better luck next time, Pakkun."

"There's not gonna be a next time." Pakkun pouted.

"Sure thing," Iruka smirked, his gaze lifting to Kakashi. The jonin looked back, smiling. The Academy sensei glowed with mirth and energy that he hadn't seen in some time. Iruka seemed happy which, in turn, left Kakashi quite content.

Iruka continued to set up for a new match, picking systematically at the fallen pieces of the previous game, and Kakashi remained content with watching him as he went.

The last few days could not have been farther from today, than in this moment, and Kakashi could not have anticipated his luck. He lay awake, all last night, awaiting the moment Iruka would see him and kick him out. But the chunin hadn't. Instead, as he recalled, Iruka provided him a blanket to use, a blanket he would never admit to appreciating more. Then his ninken appeared or, at least, a few of them had. Watching the chunin now, in his domain of Shogi playing, Kakashi couldn't help but think that that had been Iruka's doing, as well.

That Iruka would tell him to leave again was a critical possibility. There were plenty of other times where Kakashi believed it in his best interest to kick himself out, lest he be subjected to the entirety of Iruka's fury. Except last night had been different. When Iruka told him to leave, it wasn't anger Kakashi detected but exhaustion. Iruka was tired.

Of him.

Kakashi didn't want Iruka to tire of him, to move on to another person….like Yamato. Kakashi frowned, watching Iruka now with uncertainty. The memory of seeing the two of them together still puzzled Kakashi, to where the very thought of Team 7's former captain was a troublesome endeavor. He'd rather see Yamato on some mission, far, far away, rather than allow the other man to waste what free time Iruka had at his disposal. Such free time could certainly be far better spent with him.

"It's your move, Kakashi-san," Iruka said, the sound of his voice dismantling his thoughts. Indeed it was his turn. Kakashi made his first move without much thought, advancing a pawn one step forward.

The ninken watched on, silently, eager to see how the game would play out.

"Have you been enjoying yourself, today?" Kakashi asked, awaiting Iruka's first move.

The chunin sighed and smiled, as the first few faint rays of sunlight shined through his living room window.

"The day is getting better and better, with every passing second. Thank you." Iruka made his first move, watching Kakashi for his reaction. "How was your meeting?"

Kakashi shrugged, advancing another pawn. "It was a meeting. Maa, I'm not particularly fond of them, but you, Iruka-sensei, think they're important. That seems to me a good enough reason to attend them. Your move."

Iruka shook his head, chuckling. "That's good enough for me, Kakashi-san," he said, advancing his bishop two squares. "What was the meeting about? Or…" Iruka faltered, running his fingers across Bisuke's scalp. "Am I questioning things above my pay grade, again?" Iruka looked to the board, staring at the pieces.

Iruka's frown was slight, but he kept his eyes fixed on the game.

Kakashi pressed two fingers against his rook, sliding it behind his pawn. "Iruka-sensei," he said Iruka's name, as strongly as he could, but, the fear or grief in those eyes darting, back and forth, across the board left the jonin soft-spoken. "Iruka."

Iruka looked to him, eventually, the lack of formality unnerving him, but Kakashi found it came quite natural to him.

"You're an Academy instructor and I'm the Rokudaime... I know there have been times when I've used my rank as a means to demonstrate my superiority over you and, for that, I understand my error." Kakashi looked to the Shogi board, Iruka's wide-eyed gawking causing him great discomfort. Not that he would admit to that. It was not every day he tried, unsuccessfully, to explain himself to another person but, to make up for his disrespect, he felt he owed Iruka this much, more than anyone else Kakashi knew. "There's not much I would want to keep from you, if I had a choice."

Iruka looked down and up, down and up, watching the movement of his bishop and Kakashi's one-eyed gaze. "In this case, you don't," the chunin concluded.

Kakashi nodded. "There are things about this job that are on a need-to-know basis, only. There are also things about being the Hokage that I'd rather not tell you about," like ordering the simultaneous execution of forty people, Kakashi thought hatefully. He was unable to stop himself. "When I withhold information from you, it's not because you're a pre-genin sensei–not really," he admitted, moving another pawn. "I feel that there are things that are in your best interest not to know." Kakashi looked up, expecting Iruka to take his turn. "It's your move, Iruka-sensei."

"Uh, y-yeah…" Iruka looked to the board again, his face flushed.

Kakashi smiled, an opportunity to tease the chunin opening up to him. "Iruka-sensei."

"Yes, Kakashi-san," Iruka replied, moving another pawn. His cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red.

"I think I prefer calling you 'Iruka' and not 'Iruka-sensei'. May I call you 'Iruka', Iruka-sensei?"

"…"

"In private, of course. If it pleases you, Iruka-sensei, I'll continue to call you Iruka-sensei in public."

"I don't think that's a good idea…" Iruka trailed off. "It's your move, Kakashi-san."

"Call me Kakashi." Iruka suddenly laughed, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"What?"

"Kakashi-san, we've had this discussion before. You are the Hokage and, no matter what our personal relation to each other, your position calls for a certain amount of respect. I-I can't just go around calling you by your first name only!"

"Then don't," Kakashi uttered in a lazy sigh. "Call me by my first name, when we're alone, where it doesn't matter that I'm Hokage." Iruka waited, desperately, for Kakashi to make his next move, but the jonin was determined to stall. "Would it do any harm to try it, just once, Iruka?"

Iruka's face stained a permanent red now.

"Come on Iruka," Bisuke whispered, pawing at the chunin's stomach. "Just try it once."

"Kakashi," he mumbled.

"What was that, Iruka?" Kakashi asked.

Iruka looked up, flustered. "Kakashi," he snapped.

"See?" Kakashi smiled. "Was that so hard?"

"You are such an ass."

"Maa…so you've told me before," Kakashi hummed, moving his own bishop up one square. "Your move."

Iruka gave him a suspicious glare, before searching the board for his next move. "Why does it matter," he breathed.

"Why does what matter, Iruka?"

Iruka watched the jonin, a blank expression failing to conceal his uncertainty. "Why does it matter what we call each other? What difference would it make, calling you Kakashi instead of Kakashi-sama or Kakashi-san?"

Kakashi frowned. He wasn't all that sure, himself, other than knowing that he enjoyed the way Iruka's face heated up, embarrassed by being addressed and addressing on a first-name-basis only. Kakashi enjoyed the way Iruka's name rolled off the tip of his tongue, too.

The jonin shrugged.

"…We're friends, aren't we? Don't friends call each other by their first names?"

"Friends…" Iruka looked to him, with a wavering smile. This worried Kakashi. Were they no longer friends? "That's something friends can do…Kakashi." Iruka moved his bishop forward again, capturing one of Kakashi's pawns. "I'm letting you know right now: I intend on promoting this," the chunin smirked, wiggling the wedge about.

"Damn," Kakashi murmured, but one loss in a board game had very little impact on the swelling sensation he felt in his chest. "Ne… I'll try not to hold that against you," he muttered, watching the board, intently. With the first casualty being a member of his own set, Kakashi began to focus more of his attention on the game and less of it on the way the sun illuminated the rich brown color of Iruka's eyes.

"Kakashi?"

"Yes, Iruka?"

The two shared an amused glance.

"If there were things you'd rather not speak of, because of their nature…if something was troubling you, y-you'd tell me, right?" Kakashi moved another pawn, with the intention of bringing his rook out to the center of the board. "Being the Hokage doesn't mean you have to go it alone. You have support. You have friends."

"I know." Kakashi looked to the chunin again, smiling.

Kakashi wasn't just agreeing, either. He truly knew.

"It's your move, Iruka."

Iruka nodded, hesitantly, returning his attention to their game.

Kakashi's smile fell, considering Iruka's words with some apprehension, but set his concerns aside for another day. It'd been some time since he'd last played a game of Shogi with the chunin. Not since long before his promotion to Hokage and Tsunade-sama's passing.

It was pleasant.

He looked to his ninken, trying to remember the last time he was in their company for such a long length of time as this. As Kakashi's one true competitor for Iruka's attention, they had finally managed to keep their traps shut, for once. They were watching Iruka as well, awaiting his next move.

Kakashi turned his sight towards the window, noting the bright blue sky hiding behind a few cotton-like clouds.

"Looks like the weather's taken a turn for the better," he said. "When we end our game, would you like to go for a walk through the marketplace, Iruka?"

Iruka gazed up, pleasantly surprised. "I'd love to, Kakashi."

"Good."

"Hey, can we go?" Pakkun asked, looking up at the jonin.

Kakashi shrugged. "I don't see why not. You know the restaurants give nin animals free food."

"You're the best, Kakashi!" Guruko jumped up, nuzzling his nose against the jonin's shoulder. Uhei and Shiba did the same, as all the ninken went into an uproar of excitement.

"Finally, you treat us with love!" Shiba yelled.

"Thanks boss!"

"Yeah! You're the greatest!"

"I'm getting' some pork barbecue!"

Kakashi patted down their coats and tolerated their embraces, all the while regretting that he'd ever made the suggestion to begin with. "Now, now. Get off of me."

"You certainly said the right thing, Kakashi," Iruka laughed.

Kakashi eyed his ninken wearily. "I figured keeping track of all of us would make her work a bit more."

Iruka frowned. "Make who work a bit more? What 'her'?"

"Maa…"Kakashi scratched the back of his head, fully succumbing to the weight of his ninken. He fell back but quickly propelled himself up on the palms of his hands. "I guess I forgot to mention this, but, Anko-san's been watching us."

"What?"

"Looks like she'll be accompanying us for the rest of the day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed!


	17. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What remains of Team 7 receive some problematic news, but they're not the only ones as Kakashi furthers the schism between him and the elders, and Anko shares an interesting revelation with Iruka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay. So, for those of you who have yet discovered I'm a piece of failure who can't juggle all the things in her life and continue to read this story, regardless, blessings. Also, be prepared to be bombarded with another eight chapters. *cries*

"I wouldn't worry too much, Sakura. These things can be postponed… I'm sure an arrangement can be made," Yamato said, looking over the scroll in his hands. He took a seat next to Sai, who looked over his own notice with little to no concern. Sakura frowned, having looked to Sai for support and found none. Perhaps her fellow teammate was just as worried as she but still unable to master the expression of said worry.

"What kind of arrangement?" she asked Yamato.

Captain Yamato responded with a hopeful smile. 

"There are some cases in which quotas are postponed. Illness, hospital detainment... In this case, we have a very unstable team member who's suffered a great ordeal and, because of our role in the war, we're given a period of reprieve."

"That's the problem," Sakura said, crossing her arms. "If that were the case, our time is up."

A silence overtook the three. The wind picked up. Sakura looked to her right and to her left, seeing nothing but a stretch of paved road down each direction. As the wind blew, however, the leaves fell, sweeping down the path in small whirlwind circles. The mid-morning invited a bright blue sky covered in clouds fringed with the rich glow of the sun. To the pink haired kunoichi's bemusement and delight, it was the complete opposite from the day before, when she thought the rain would pelt on forever. 

Sakura spent yesterday at the hospital, as per usual, mending wounds and putting a friendly smile to a surrounding that often threatened endless gloom.

Yet not even the perfect weather could make up for the nonchalant stares of Sai and Capatin Yamato.

Yamato saw Sakura's frustration, her inability to hope. She kept alternating between feet as they tapped repeatedly against the ground beneath them. She paced, to the nearby fence and back again, while her lips moved of their own volition, silently mouthing her disdain for the team's current predicament.

With eyes as sharp as they were elliptic, he scoped over the whole of the notice once more, dissecting it in its entirety. As a member of Anbu he could certainly grasp the full weight of Sakura's concern. If this formality was to be believed, then Team Kakashi was due for assignment in a matter of days. There was nothing more important to a shinobi's career than to resume a regular completion of missions. A career could quickly stagnate without them. The most effective manner in which a shinobi could advance their rank was through ambition.

Shinobi as young as Sai and Sakura needed to complete their quota if they had any intention on solidifying their rank. Even after great feats in a hateful war, the bureaucracy of their world continued on like clockwork.

As it was, Sakura had taken up her medic-nin duties, ranking as both skilled jonin and specialist physician for the hospital. Sai continued to pursue his efforts in understanding the human mind and grasping human emotion but remained occupied with his new responsibilities as part of a support faction in the new era of Anbu. The two spent what time they could spare in the library, researching medical texts and behavioral analyses respectively and sharing their findings. 

Yamato had taken to a holiday of sorts as both his underlings ventured into more academic realms of the institution. Though he held no personal qualms with such pursuit, for the youthful to take up such idle roles was a disturbance to the natural order. Fulfilling a monthly quota of mission-based assignments was the best way for the team to proceed, in his opinion.

Whether they were aware of this fact or not, Yamato imagined that advancing their careers was a want for both Sai and Sakura, and this current lull they'd been experiencing could hinder such a thing, drive them mad with certain ennui, and make them contemplate certain matters they'd be better off never contemplating again.

"More time can be made," Yamato said, to reassure the two. Sai, as always, remained a blank surface waiting to be colored with a dab of emotion. Sakura, however, remained unconvinced.

"I'm not so sure, Yamato-taichou," Sakura voiced, barely above a whispered.

Sai looked up from his own scroll, at long last, his pitch black eyes wandering between the two. "Kakashi-sensei is the Hokage. Would he not wave our obligations, if we asked him?" he offered in an ever even tone.

"I doubt it," Sakura frowned, furrowed brow, eyeing the open scroll in Yamato's hand. "It has the Rokudaime's Seal of Approval on the bottom."

"That doesn't necessarily mean that the Hokage approved of this or is even aware of the situation. With so much paperwork going in and out of the offices, I doubt Kakashi-senpai even sees forms on mission requirements," Yamato explained, handing Sakura back her scroll. "He'll, most likely, sit on the board if we request a stay."

"If we request a stay, he'll only deny it," Sakura said, and Yamato detected a hint of resentment in her tone.

"What makes you think that?" Sai asked, his face, still, misleadingly blank.

Sakura spared them both a glare, staring at the ground. "I just have a feeling that he would. I'm concerned for Naruto," she muttered, "but Kakashi-sensei would allow this—just to spite him, wouldn't he?"

"Sakura…" Yamato stared, surprised his jonin charge would think so little of her sensei and his motives. Yamato was hard-pressed to believe that his senpai had anything to do with this, whatsoever. Naruto's present priorities wouldn't stand under the scrutiny of anyone. It was true that Kakashi disapproved and would probably act no further than the law required of him. Sure, this decision had put a strain on the relationship between the two, but even his senpai knew that they were Naruto's choices to make and would do nothing to interfere. "Surely you don't mean that. Kakashi-senpai cares a great deal for all his students. He wouldn't force Naruto into anything he wasn't physically and mentally prepared to do."

"Maybe he didn't mean anything by it," Sakura relented, "but this is the only way, isn't it? If Naruto feels threatened; if his career is on the line, then he'd have to put an end to this."

"You know he won't do that," Yamato said. "He's proven plenty of times that he looks out for the people he cares about. This is who he is. I wouldn't want that to change."

"Sasuke-kun is like a brother to him," said Sai.

At the mention of that name, the abrupt silence paled in comparison to Sakura's petrified state.

"That's right," Yamato chorused, "Sasuke is like a brother to Naruto. They share a bond, one that can't be severed by threats or intimidation. He was the only one who could save Sasuke back then, and he's the only one who can help save him now."

"At what cost, Yamato-taichou?" Sakura sighed. She began to pace again. "He can't keep putting his life on hold for Sasuke. None of us can...” the kunoichi refused to tear her eyes from the ground as she spoke. “Naruto's been doing that for years,” her, too, Sakura thought but could not bear to say. “Even though he's in custody, Sasuke still manages to control Naruto's life."

She stopped, standing before Yamato and Sai and tapping her right foot with such strength that it left an increasing dent in the ground. Her eyes flared with fear and anger; fear that they might never escape the stigma of their former teammate and anger, anger that said former teammate still influenced Naruto in such a tremendous way...

...And anger, again, for her own feelings of compassion and love for said former teammate.

"What about you, Sakura?" Sai asked, rolling up his scroll. "What does Sasuke-kun mean to you?"

Sakura's eyes grew wide, her lips quivering, before the young woman managed to compose herself again.

"Sasuke…Sasuke is no longer important to me. He's done evil things and, for that reason, he will be punished. What's done is right," she lied, looking anywhere but at those faces that had come to know her so well.

Sai's eyes remained fixed on her, analyzing her and her body language: the slight tug of her lips, the restlessness in her eyes, and the way her hands would flinch though they remained uselessly at her sides. The wind picked up again, tossing her bangs before her eyes and the Strength of a Hundred Seal on her forehead. 

Nervously, Sakura tucked them back behind her ears.

"I don't think I believe that," Sai concluded, earning him a heated gaze from the troubled kunoichi. Then Sai thought to smile, believing that this might ease over Sakura's displeasure. "The book you helped me find yesterday is coming in handy very quickly."

"Well," Sakura huffed, crossing her arms once more. "I wish I never helped you find that book."

"But it's been very helpful," he explained, smiling still.

Yamato heaved a tremendously tortured exhale.

"Naruto is my only concern," she stated sternly. "I'm worried that if he doesn't pull together, he might never realize his dreams." Her face softened. "He wants to be a great leader and, in order to do that, he has to complete as many assignments as he possibly can. We need to resume our duties," she added, "or we'll fall behind."

"You're right about that," Yamato agreed, growing more disturbed as the knowledge began to settle in. Rising from the bench he and Sai occupied, he projected a calm demeanor and produced an easy-going smile. "I'll take that," he said, and, reluctantly, Sakura handed her scroll back over to him. Sai looked up and saw Sakura's notice in their captain's hand, so he handed over his as well.

"You two shouldn't worry about this just yet. I know, it's too early to say but I am certain something can be done about this. I'll speak to Kakashi-senpai myself and sort this all out."

"What if something can't be done?" Sakura asked, her eyes brimmed with worry. Sai stood and came to her side, lacking all the expression his teammate possessed. "What should we do, then?"

"Just go about your daily routine," Yamato said, gently, hoping to assuage the concern. This was their future as active shinobi on the line, after all. "Continue your rounds at the hospital. Sai, I want you to contact your lieutenant."

"Mm." Sai nodded.

Yamato nodded in return, rolling up the two scrolls and stashing them in his scroll pouches. "Worst case scenario, Team Kakashi will be disbanded and its members placed in temp squads, indefinitely, if something can't be done."

"Can you talk to Naruto, Yamato-taichou?" Sakura asked. "I've tried, but…" she paused, looking away. "He doesn't seem to hear me."

"Sakura, if there was someone you cared a great deal about, and you knew their time was very limited, what would you do?" Yamato asked in response. Sakura yielded, as he knew she would. Her intentions weren't lackluster, simply torn between reason and heart. He suspected the young kunoichi feared to fathom the depths of Naruto's loyalty to the imprisoned Uchiha, refused to feel it mirror her own.

"I would want to be with them," she said, shaking her head. "I just wish more could be done."

"Something will be done. I'll make sure of it," Yamato promised. "Now…where were the two of you headed?"

"Oh…"

"To the library," Sai supplied. "We were headed that way, when we received noticed, but since we ran into you we thought we might ask about it.”

"Like I said, don't worry too much on this," Yamato waved off, "but do make the necessary preparations. Just in case."

"That can wait until after the library," Sai said.

"Yes," Sakura grinned, miserably. "We were going to do some more research. Sai has a theory on how human response to pain and incapacity plays an important role in the physical recovery of a shinobi. He seems to believe that chakra stemming from the brain is sent out with its own set of receptive indicators, separate from the immune system. With some luck, we can present our findings as a thesis to the medical board."

"That's great," Yamato chuckled, truly amazed. "Kakashi-senpai has told me of how Iruka-sensei often talks of you as the brightest of your class. Now, with Sai's help, the two of you should be unstoppable."

"Thank you," Sakura blushed, fingering her cheek. Sai remained unresponsive. "Iruka-sensei really said that?" she asked, just to be certain.

"I guess so. Perhaps I should ask him myself," he replied.

Then it hit him.

"Well, I won't hold the two of you up," he smiled. "Good luck with your research," he waved, turning down the road.

"Oh," Sakura breathed, bearing a hesitant smile. "Bye, Yamato-taichou."

Sai and Sakura watched him leave, only, Sakura maintained a look of confusion.

"That was strange," she grumbled.

"In what way?" Sai asked.

Sakura thought she might explain but shook her head and let it go. Such an explanation would involve social complexities the other shinobi would only question and further analyze. It truly wasn't worth it. Better yet it would be more worth it if they ran into Ino and Choji again, as they often did at the library. Watching her blonde frenemy try and sauce out Sai's lack of social skills, all for a compliment her way, was quite the hilarious pastime for Sakura.

"Come on, let's go," she said, uneasily, and the two left in the other direction.

Yamato's pace picked up, as he headed south. It had been his intention to go grocery shopping. He left his fridge as bare as possible, before a mission, so not to let anything go bad. But as he was running low on supplies and growing weary of instant ramen, he thought a trip to the marketplace would do him far less harm.

Except he was heading in the opposite direction, his intended destination now being the Academy.

Yamato couldn't help but question why the thought had not occurred to him earlier. The fate of Team Kakashi was in peril, with Naruto's deep-rooted attachment to Uchiha Sasuke its greatest threat. At this point, the active Anbu member could think of only one person who could reach Naruto; talk to him, and convince him reduce the amount of time he invested in the Konoha traitor.

If only to fulfill the team's monthly quota.

He was eager, determined even, to pay Umino Iruka a visit. He felt it important that the chunin know what predicament his former charge was in and, of course, Iruka was in the best position to help him. Yamato knew how much he cared for Naruto. From what he'd learned from the man himself, he'd taken him in when it became apparent that there wasn't another soul willing to look after the boy.

This had nothing to do with the fact that Yamato wanted to see the Academy sensei again. This would be a formal visit, he charged himself, one that dealt with Naruto's situation and Naruto's situation only.

All other conversation could surely wait.

But Yamato enjoyed his dinner with Iruka and anticipated another opportunity to ask the chunin on another outing. Perhaps, when all serious matters were discussed, this would prove to be the perfect opportunity.

His gait neared a brisk jog.

How would Iruka respond to this knowledge, he wondered? Yamato imagined the chunin would be upset and reasonably so. Worried, yes. He imagined what that looked like and recalled a rather unsettling image of the night before. Iruka had been fairly easy-going and conversational, not at all like his Academy persona. With no responsibilities, no assignments to dish out and no pre-genin to monitor, the chunin was all smiles, all laughs, and all jokes. Yamato admired the chunin's grace and confidence, despite his low rank. The night he treated him to Ichiraku's, Yamato honestly believed that he could sit there and listen to Iruka talk for all eternity, if need be.

Then, in one split second, everything changed. The light in Iruka's eyes dimmed and his face fell, staring into his empty bowl of ramen. The chunin had stopped talking, mid-sentence, so to avoid drawing attention to himself. All that he was, an interesting and lively pre-genin sensei, had vanished the instant the Rokudaime entered the ramen bar. Iruka had been effectively silenced by his senpai's presence, and Yamato felt he had a pretty good understanding of why.

Still, it never hurt to try. During Konoha's reconstruction process, Yamato had grown fairly acquainted with Team 7's pre-genin instructor and found that he quite enjoyed the man's company. He enjoyed Iruka, and Yamato would explore every possibility that Iruka-sensei might enjoy him back.

Yamato turned right, taking a short-cut down an alleyway.

That's when he heard it, a faint whimpering from behind a couple of dumpsters. The whimpering grew into groans of agony, as though someone had been injured. The captain slowed down, scoping the area mercilessly. The two buildings on either side of him were a mixture of residences and offices. Whatever or whoever it was could have been civilian or shinobi. Most likely the former, he thought, considering a shinobi would never take rest in an inhabited area, especially when the hospital was less than a mile away.

Finding an injured civilian was not uncommon. Civilians had disputes, civilians engaged in altercations. They may not have the skills, the strength, or the influence of a shinobi, but Yamato had learned long ago that there was very little difference in the evil both shinobi and civilians could achieve.

"Help," uttered a faint voice.

"Hello? I'm right here," he called back, springing into action.

"Thank you! Thank you! I'm injured, sir…" The voice was high and boisterous, much like that of a small child. That realization had Yamato rushing behind the dumpsters, certain to find a little boy or girl with a broken arm or a sprained leg, perhaps.

But he found not a little boy or girl cowering against the side of the building.

"What the…?"

It was a furry rump and a small, fluffy tail that he saw, protruding from behind the dumpsters. It turned, slowly, revealing a blue vest wrapped around its small body that was branded with the henohenomoheji seal of the Hatake clan; droopy round eyes rimmed in dark brown circles, accompanied with a pitiful frown.

"B-Bisuke?" Yamato stuttered, confused.

"Hello, Yamato-san." Bisuke blinked. "Sorry about this."

"About what?"

Suddenly, his person was being surrounded, so Yamato pulled a kunai from his jacket. But as he looked left and right, it was not enemy or even fellow shinobi he found advancing on him but, in fact, the rest of Kakashi's ninken ambushing him. He lowered his guard, stashing his weapon back into his vest pocket, but that didn't make him any less alert.

"W-what are you guys doing?"

To his left, Akino, Urushi, and Uhei approached and, to his right, approached Bull, Shiba, and Guruko. They stepped forward, with each paw print as definite as the last, their teeth bare and their mouths rumbling with rabid foam. Yamato grew perplexed, not knowing whether to feel threatened or not. These were his senpai's ninken, after all. Why would they attack him? What reason would they have to attack him?

Then Pakkun appeared, jumping down from the dumpsters. The pug took his place at the front of the pack, standing before Yamato in a position to pounce.

"Pakkun! What's going on? Has something gone wrong?" he asked, on the off chance that whatever caused their ferociousness had nothing to do with him.

"Yamato-taichou," Pakkun growled, his gruff voice emitting an unusually bitter tone. "We've got a bone to pick with you."

 

* * *

 

"These are the final matters we must discuss today," Lady Utatane said, addressing the round table. There sat five of them, all esteemed members of the Board of Shinobi or the Council: Lady Utatane and Elder Mitokado, both of which sat on the north side of the table. Opposite them sat Shikamaru Nara, newly appointed Jonin Commander, donning the standard chest guard as prescribed by the position, his bearing of quiet strength and astute perceptiveness near indistinguishable from his late father. His stud earrings shined in the overhead light, casting bright dots against the otherwise uninspired décor.

This hall was much smaller, in size and grandeur, compared to the Council chamber. It allowed just a few members, like Elder Utatane and Elder Mitokado, to orchestrate private meetings that would, ultimately, decide the fate of all matters brought to the Head Council.

Also in attendance sat Elder Hurasu, taking up a whole side to himself, and Lord Shijimi, who often served as head of the Council. He now sat, as at ease as ever, the droopy lines down his face stretching into a smile, as he tossed his wrinkly old wrist with the swish of his fan. Every now and then, Shikamaru threw the flamboyant man a hateful glance, annoyed by the wisps of air thrown in his direction.

"What is to be done about Konoha's dwindling manpower and what is to be done with the Root subdivision of Anbu,” Elder Mitokado stated, following Lady Utatane's lead.

"Think we should wait for Kakashi-sama to show up before we talk about these final matters, no?" Shikamaru opted, staring the two leading elders down. His eyes had long since narrowed in on the two, though young, the lengthy talks he once shared with his father about their shinobi government and the way things were rendering him not at all ignorant to their game.

"You should know by now, Nara-san," Elder Utatane spoke lightly. "The Hokage is not going to show up. Perhaps he has found more important matters to attend to."

"What's more important than this?" Shikamaru challenged, gripping the edge of the table. "The budget and reconstruction plans? Those are issues that could have easily been dealt with by the board, but taking a decisive action on Root will affect the future of shinobi loyalty in Konoha. As for manpower, deciding how our numbers can be better distributed is a decision the Hokage should have a definite say in. It should not be left up to us but to the Rokudaime."

"And we couldn't agree more, Nara-san," Elder Mitokado chuckled, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Hurasu chuckled as well, wheezing along with Mitokado's patronizing tone. "But as you can see, we must make these decisions ourselves. The Hokage is not here."

"Ma…says who?" Kakashi hummed, closing the door behind him. His lengthy strides were accompanied by silence and the flabbergasted faces of his fellows. He took a seat at the table, on the left side of Shikamaru. The younger man gave him a slight grin, and Kakashi gave a curt nod in response. Then he eyed the rest of the table and its occupants, all of whom expressed a combination of bewilderment and vexation. Kakashi smiled in Elder Mitokado and Elder Utatane's direction, specifically. "Shall we proceed with the meeting?"

"Splendid. Truly marvelous," The Daimyo cooed, clapping his fingers together.

"Lord Shijimi," Kakashi greeted, lowering his head in respect. Then he looked up once more, not repeating the action for any of the three elders sitting opposite him.

"Glad to see you could finally make it, Kakashi-sama." Lord Shijimi fanned his shoulder length hair back. "We were just discussing what should be done about our low manpower, as well as what to do with Root Anbu subdivision."

"The significant words being "just discussing", Kakashi-sama," Elder Hurasu said, scowling. He too pressed his beefy hands down against the table top. "We have already come to a unified decision on both matters."

"Eh?" Lord Shijimi breathed.

"No we haven't," Shikamaru griped, eyeing the elder suspiciously. He looked to Kakashi, the contempt in his eyes decreasing exponentially. "We were just discussing the issues before you arrived, Kakashi-sama," he explained.

"I see," Kakashi uttered, eyeing the table. "In that case…" the jonin dropped his smile and pleasant tone in exchange for a stern glare and a frank drawl. “Shikamaru, fill me in on what I've missed."

"Right." The commander looked down to his notes, albeit detestably, checking them off as he went. "We discussed the current budget plan, for both civilian and shinobi faculties."

"What are the numbers?"

Shikamaru looked to his notes again. "208.8 million ryo."

"I suspect there's no inflation."

Shikamaru shook his head. "No…the war guaranteed that the ryo is strong. As the Sound and denizens of Amegakure played heavily into the war, as far as enemy combatant numbers go, it's them who must pay Konoha reparation."

"Is that before or after the figure?"

"After," Shikamaru confirmed. "From what statistics the finance department has making the rounds, Konoha is still the wealthiest nation of the Five Great Shinobi Countries, leading far above Iwagakure, Kumogakure, Kirigakure, and Sunagakure."

"Mm…What is Amegakure's current situation?" the Rokudaime asked.

Shikamaru eyed the table cautiously. "They're war wrecked, like the rest of us," he began. "Except not only must they repay us, for our loss, but they must also compensate for the losses of our allies. Their government will soon collapse and they will fall into a deep depression without much needed aid."

"Nonsense," Elder Hurasu grumbled. "They've been our enemies in war for as long as the history books have recorded and, very recently, were led by that criminal, Pain… The less exchange we share with the Hidden Rain the better."

“They seek to join the Shinobi Union.”

“Blasphemous! I'll hear no more of this treachery...!” 

"I believe that would be a terrible miscalculation, Elder Hurasu," Kakashi stated coolly. Elder Hurasu squirmed in his seat, disgruntled by the Hokage's terribly calm stare. "If history has shown us anything, it's that we shouldn't abandon our neighboring shinobi out of spite. Is Konohagakure not equally guilty of bloodshed? The only difference is that we won and they did not." He shrugged. "Back-handed politics such as these create the danger, turning groups that advocate peace into vengeful murderers…like Nagato, Lord Hurasu."

"Oh, what do you know?" Elder Hurasu wheezed. "I'll have you know that I've been dealing with heathen villages since before you were born!"

"Hurasu!" Lady Utatane snapped, and the man fell silent. She turned to Kakashi, her eyes sharp and beady. "Explain yourself, Kakashi."

Kakashi would gladly explain himself, his own fervor for the discussion unbeknownst even to him. "Was it not Amegakure who fell into civil war less than a decade ago? The result of which gave rise to Pain's power."

"We know of that war now, Kakashi-san," Elder Mitokado griped. "Konohagakure had nothing to do with it."

"We had everything to do with it, Elder Mitokado," Kakashi retaliated, although his voice remained pleasantly light. "After Pain's invasion, Konoha did a full investigation into Amegakure and the circumstances under which Hanzou fell from power."

Elder Hurasu sneered, "So what?"

"Before that," Kakashi continued, "It was Konoha who came to Amegakure's aid, under the lead of the very same subdivision we've come to discuss today." He frowned, irately eyeing the heads of their village. "But we were no aid. We were called upon to enact a ploy, slaughtering hundreds of innocent shinobi who were advocating peace. We, Konoha, helped to create Pain. Danzou's decisively militant actions made us just as guilty as Hanzou in starting that war. Such devastation kept tailored the coattails by which Madara would eventually ride into influence and power.”

"This is outrageous!" Elder Hurasu growled.

"Kakashi-san, how can you make such claims," Elder Mitokado scowled, the Hokage's words ringing nonsense to his ears. "It's preposterous."

"This is not preposterous!" Shikamaru sneered, his hatred for such political dealings doing away with his usual nonchalance. "This is what happened. You must know by now that Danzou sent Root personnel out to Amegakure to help Hanzou annihilate the opposition, a peaceful movement headed by the Ame orphans. When Jiraiya-sama's journals and dispatches were confiscated, this was proven to be true. We now know a great deal about how we played a role in shaping the Fourth Shinobi War and the Amegakure we see today."

"Kakashi-sama, what do you propose Konohagakure do to assist Amegakure in this time of need?" Lord Shijimi asked. "How should we act?"

Kakashi considered the Daimyo before he spoke. He dare say that Lord Shijimi had far more guards following him than Kakashi was willing to permit for himself. He felt their chakra signatures flank the hallways and well into the yard of the building.

"We shouldn't simply dismiss fellow shinobi villages and take up causes whenever it best suits us. We supported Amegakure, in our darkest hour, so we'll support them, in their darkest hour. I'm implementing policies that will establish a reconstruction period, where we will provide Amegakure the funds and equipment essential to their survival."

"You can't be serious…!" Elder Hurasu seethed.

"Shikamaru," Kakashi said, looking to his right, pointedly ignoring the elder who now grew purple in the face sitting opposite him.

"Yes, Kakashi-sama."

"I want you to take care of this. Send a team out to Amegakure: a messenger, a diplomat, and however many specialty shinobi are needed to make this an uneventful venture. Consider this an S-rank mission."

"No problem," Shikamaru mutered, glaring at Hurasu.

"I couldn't agree more with your decision, Kakashi-sama," Lord Shijimi flattered him. "This would be the most effective approach to maintaining our ties with the Hidden Rain. After this previous war, especially. Wouldn't you agree, Elder Mitokado and Lady Utatane?"

"Yes, Elder Mitokado and Lady Utatane," Kakashi beamed. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"It's a sound plan," Elder Mitokado stated tightly.

"We would have come to this decision, eventually," Lady Utatane said, thin-lipped and frowning.

"Good, good," Lord Shijimi insisted. "Now, Kakashi-sama, what are your thoughts on Root?"

"Maa…" the jonin took a moment's pause. “It's a part of Konoha's history that should never be repeated. As of today, the currently suspended Root division of Anbu will be dismantled, definitely. Its members will join ranks with the official tactical and special squads." 

All present shared in momentary surprise, with the exception of Kakashi and Shikamaru. For Kakashi, he need not be surprised by his own ruling, and Shikamaru couldn't have been more satisfied to hear it.

"You can't be serious…"

"I am serious, Elder Hurasu."

"But we could still have a Root division," he scoffed. "Root is the most effective, covert operation we have had in disabling the will of our enemies."

"Root has garnered more failures than are acceptable. Besides, I find it more effective to ensure that we keep our list of enemies at a bare minimum," Kakashi countered. He looked to the rest of the table, addressing the Daimyo, the commander, and the two other elders. "Furthermore, Nara Shikamaru will lead Anbu from here on out–"

"What–?"

"The Jonin Commander will be my second-in-command," Kakashi dictated. He turned towards Shikamaru. "You are wise beyond your years, Shikamaru. Shikaku-san saw to that, sure, but your presence here and current station was not paved by way of nepotism but by your own skill and intelligence.”

“Kakashi-sama...” Shikamaru bit down a cringe in response to such flowery praise. He suspected the older man, his superior, maintained an air of levity but the words sounded no less genuinely felt. Still, at barely nineteen years of age, Shikamaru did not believe himself yet capable enough to bother with the awesome responsibility of all that the Rokudaime's words entailed. Were he a more reactionary person, right then and there, he might have made an attempt to beat some sense into his Hokage. “...How troublesome.”

“I trust you're capable, Shikamaru. You already command regular ranks, making you the most qualified to head the Black Ops in my absence." Kakashi then addressed the other four attendees. "Anbu should be led by two individuals, so to ensure its effectiveness and to account for its actions."

"Splendid!" Lord Shijimi said, fanning himself adamantly. "I must say, Kakashi-sama, you have the grace of the White Fang. I see it before my very eyes!"

"Thank you, Lord Shijimi."

"Tell me, what of our decreasing number in shinobi? How would you resolve this matter?"

Kakashi shrugged, looking toward the ceiling, the iridescent light show of Shikamaru's stud earrings an entertaining sight to an otherwise bland room. Rays of sunlight peaked in from the high-wall windows, however…by the looks of it, noon was soon approaching, and the Hokage could list a slew of other places he would rather be than here, playing politics to resolve the issue to that question.

Kakashi sighed, thinking of how inviting the Academy grounds were at this time of day.

"Konohagakure will handle the issue the way we've always dealt with low counts in personnel, by establishing joint operations with Sunagakure. With Root no longer a subdivision, those Anbu can be utilized to pick up regularly classified missions. Those two initiatives, alone, will increase our manpower by tenfold."

"Yes, yes. Of course, of course," Lord Shijimi exclaimed, hiding his giddiness beneath his fan. "I can't find a single flaw in your plans, Kakashi-sama. You'll certainly have my support, as these decisions come to pass."

Kakashi looked to Lady Utatane and Elder Mitokado with a feeling that, at that moment, the two elders wished to be anywhere else but sitting at that table, too.

"Then if Lord Shijimi supports the Rokudaime and his decisions, we will support him and his ruling as well," Mitokado said, looking to his fellow elders. Hurasu seemed on the verge of boiling over with rage.

"Then these matters are settled for now. This meeting is adjourned," the Daimyo sighed happily. He looked to Kakashi, nodding in tune to his fanning. "Kakashi-sama, come time for the Council to gather, I will make certain that your plan of action is accepted by all council members."

"Yes, Lord Shijimi," Kakashi bowed his head once more.

Lord Shijimi rose from his chair, clasping his fan closed.

"Now, if there are no other pressing matters to attend to, I would like to return to my land. I am expected to accompany the Madame for afternoon tea."

The elders, Shikamaru, and Kakashi stood as well, watching as Lord Shijimi made his way toward the doors. He was immediately escorted by four guards and, most certainly, the existence of a dozen or so more who remained unseen. Only when the doors thudded close did the other five attendees begin to collect themselves to leave. Hurasu sprang first, hauling the whole of his girth across the room in a multiple of heavy-footed waddles. His robes bellowed behind him, barely clearing the door before it slammed shut.

"You showed up," Shikamaru mumbled, beneath his breath.

"Did you doubt that I would?" Kakashi mumbled back, just as lowly, pushing in his chair.

Shikamaru pushed his own chair in, leaning up against it.

"For a second there, I thought you might pull one of your disappearing acts or send someone in your stead."

"I was not aware of these meetings…You gave me the head's up when no one else felt it necessary to do so," Kakashi remarked, staring at the two elders who spoke ardently between themselves. "The least I could do was show."

"How troublesome," Shikamaru scoffed. "You certainly chose an interesting moment to show up."

"Kakashi-san," Lady Utatane said, coming forward. Both jonin eyed her with caution. "I do hope you've taken time to decide who will be escorting you to the summit."

"Mm…I've given it some thought," Kakashi lied.

"The select few who join you," Elder Mitokado began, stepping in line with Lady Utatane, "will serve as representatives of the village. They will also serve as your strength, as well as your accompanied guests. These individuals should not be chosen lightly."

Kakashi looked away, his attention drifting.

"Maa, I'll keep that in mind when I make my choices," he said. Elder Mitokado walked on, not as aggressively as Hurasu, but it was apparent to both the Jonin Commander and the Hokage that Mitokado did not get what he wanted out of this preliminary meeting.

The doors shutting firmly behind him as he went.

Lady Utatane remained steadfast, apparently, not at all through with Kakashi. She watched him, critically, her gaze shifting to read the expanse of his masked face. Kakashi watched her back, smiling, not at all troubled by her blatant staring. What he found more interesting was the fact that Shikamaru had yet to leave, standing patiently to the side. Then again, it wasn't an everyday occurrence to find the Jonin Commander in charge of both divisions of the highest ranking shinobi of their village.

"Kakashi-san, when the Hokage attends a formal meeting, it is expected of him to wear the appropriate attire," Lady Utatane began, in a frank and condescending tone.

"Ne…" Kakashi could think of only one way to respond to that. He dipped his hands into his pockets, shrugging slightly. "I didn't see the Daimyo complaining."

"Where are your Hokage robes, Kakashi-san?"

"I left them at home," Kakashi lied, again. What was visible of his face gave nothing away, his eye meeting Lady Utatane's in an unspoken challenge.

Shikamaru looked between the two, growing wearier by the second.

"Your battalion chest guard is presentable, but see to it that you wear your Hokage robes," she said, stingily, brushing by him to leave. To Kakashi's dismay, however, her voice continued to fill the room. "Also…I spoke to Iruka-sensei, and I believe that he and I have agreed that he is unfit to serve as your assistant. I have compiled a list of worthy candidates from which you are to choose your new aid. Do come by my chambers to receive it."

"That won't be necessary, Lady Utatane," Kakashi said, feigning a trying grin.

"Oh?" The astute elder turned back and paused, her frail hand gripping the door handle. "I assure you, the decision was unanimous. He agreed that there are others who are far more…qualified and equipped to tend to your needs."

"Iruka-sensei tends to my needs, just fine," he said, a sudden anger rising in his voice.

Shikamaru looked between the two, again, exasperated by the discussion.

Kakashi had long since grown tired of the elders and their ill-attempts at usurping his position. At first it was a minor nuisance, somewhat entertaining, even after letting them know that he wouldn't be their puppet; a lame representative of their failing system. He could tolerate their attempts to sway his decisions, bar him from meetings, and withhold information from him. But when Lady Utatane spoke of Iruka after having put doubt in the chunin's mind, it was Kakashi who had to fight to reassure Iruka otherwise.

When Iruka first spoke of resigning, Kakashi's chest constricted with dismay. He knew then and there that to lose Iruka's companionship in any way, shape, or form, somehow threatened him.

"Do what you will with your list, Lady Utatane, but Iruka-sensei is my assistant and the only aid I require. I would ask you not to approach him with anymore discussion of this," Kakashi stated, making it apparent that this was not a suggestion or a request. He ignored Shikamaru's bafflement, glaring at Elder Utatane. "This is my decision. Iruka-sensei's position is permanent."

"We shall see, Kakashi-san," Lady Utatane said briskly, before exiting.

The Rokudaime remained glaring at the door, long after Lady Utatane's departure.

"What the hell was that all about?" Shikamaru grumbled, looking between the door and his Hokage/

"…Another dispute for another day," Kakashi answered.

"Iruka-sensei…." Shikamaru held his chin, recalling his somewhat mild-mannered but often maddeningly severe Academy sensei. “If not for him, I honestly think I would have slept throughout my time at the Academy. Then where would I be today?” 

Not a Jonin Commander and newly appointed Anbu leader—that's for damn sure, Shikamaru thought, smirking. 

“That man put up with a lot of bull, back then...still does, it seems."

Kakashi still hadn't torn his gaze away from the door.

“He's a cool guy, I mean, when he's not your teacher and all...”

Shikaku gave the still fixated Hokage a blunt stare, looking him up and down. "He's friendly, polite, optimistic… No offense, Kakashi-sama, but what's someone like Iruka-sensei hanging around you for?"

"Ne…" Kakashi turned at last, his icy glare melting into a feigned frown. "I'm friendly. I'm polite."

"You showed up to the last five minutes of our meeting," Shikamaru groused. "I'm no saint myself, but that hardly constitutes as polite behavior."

"You're starting to sound like Iruka-sensei, Nara-san," Kakashi replied.

"Well you would know…apparently." Shikamaru frowned. "…Kakashi-sama, about taking command of Anbu…" his voice trailed away, inherently too unbothered to continue.

"I apologize for not notifying you in advance but it was my intention all along to combine the two institutions. To have the Jonin Commander lead both standard and classified operations seemed to me the most logical approach to yielding a more effective taskforce."

"That and making me head the two takes away a bit of your responsibilities," Shikamaru rebuked.

Kakashi shrugged, "A favorable byproduct."

"And you're certain this is the best approach?" 

Kakashi detected a hint doubt in Asuma's former underling.

"Shikamaru, it was your father who once nominated my name when it was believed that Tsunade-sama would not recuperate from Pain's attack.”

“So this is an act of nepotism.”

“No. Shikaku believed me the most capable and most qualified to take up the responsibilities of a Hokage. It can't be helped that his own son now qualifies to command the same position I would have appointed to him." 

Kakashi reached out, gripping the young man's shoulder encouragingly. "Believe in yourself in the same way your father believed in us both."

Shikamaru looked to his shoulder, curiously, before rolling his eyes. "When you put it like that, it's difficult to refuse," he sighed.

Kakashi released his grip, smiling his one-eyed smile.

"Sneaky as always, Hatake Kakashi."

 

* * *

 

Iruka walked down the open path, beaming. He could see the Academy in the distance. To his right, the playground chorused with rowdy children, many of which were students of his making good use of their lunch break. As for himself, Iruka had spent his lunch running errands. The teacher's storage room had run low on supplies, so the chunin volunteered to head out to the marketplace and restock. Now he was saddled with satchels of new chalk, erasers, notebooks, folders, and worksheet papers. He could only hope that the storage room remained intact just long enough to find all these new purchases accommodating.

"Iruka-sensei!"

"Mm?" Iruka stopped. He looked to the playground but doubted it was one of the children. The voice he heard was much older than the average age of his students. Still, it was familiar, as if its owner had once been a student and was now a shinobi Iruka greatly admired.

Iruka turned and, sure enough, it was a former student he greatly admired.

"Shikamaru," he called back, pleasantly surprised to see the now Jonin Commander. He was accompanied by Sarutobi Kurenai, jonin team leader of three other former students of his: Hyuga Hinata, Aburame Shino, and Inuzuka Kiba, all of whom were now accomplished shinobi. Iruka chuckled, imagining all of his former students as successful and well-known, in their own right, now.

_ "You're the only Academy instructor to ever have an entire class of students make it on a team." _

Iruka felt his face warm up, at the thought of Kakashi's words, making the midday breeze billow more coolly against his face.

"Hello, Iruka-sensei," Kurenai smiled warmly.

"Kurenai-san," Iruka greeted, smiling back.

It was then that he noticed a small bundle in Kurenai's arms, strapped in a yellow, silk holster that wrapped around the woman's left shoulder. The chunin looked to the jonin, overjoyed for the infant held against her mother's bosom.

"Is that who I think it is?" he asked softly, a broad grin spreading across his face.

"Mm-hm," Kurenai hummed, staring down at her bundle of joy. "Little Mirai…"

Shikamaru glowed, looking to his future pupil with pride.

Iruka stepped closer, looking to both mother and infant. "I remember her birth ceremony, but there were so many people. I didn't get a chance to congratulate you, Kurenai-san," he sighed, but his eyes brightened, never straying far from the little crimson eyes taking in the world around her.

"Really?" Kurenai pouted, shifting the baby's weight beneath her arm. "I'm sorry to hear that, Iruka-sensei. Things were so hectic that day. I should have paid more attention–"

"No, no," he insisted, gently waving of the idea. "You had far more important things to concern yourself with, like this beautiful little girl here…" Iruka reached out but stopped himself, looking to Kurenai for consent. "May I?"

"Of course you can," she laughed.

Iruka was overjoyed. He extended his hand to the much smaller one that kept reaching out to catch pockets of air with nimble fingers. That same pudgy hand wrapped itself around his thumb, inspecting the appendage with round eyes. It caused the chunin to chuckle. "She's the curious type," he smiled.

"You don't say," Kurenai cooed.

By the tone in her voice, Iruka gathered that baby Mirai must have caused her mother a lot of trouble, as of late.

"She's a reckless little runt," Shikamaru chimed in, grinning. "Just yesterday, she knocked over her mom's resin collection." He frowned at Iruka. "I spent all afternoon cleaning it up. Still, Kurenai-sensei's house smells like vanilla, lavender, sage, and a whole bunch of other fragrances that I can't even put a name to. Can you imagine that? Being cooped up in a house that smells like the shop of a tea-leaf shrew?" He looked to Mirai again, grumbling. "How troublesome…"

"Shikamaru, you forgot to mention how you were supposed to be watching Mirai while I went out to run some errands. You fell asleep, leaving Mirai to her own devices," Kurenai retaliated in a lethally gentle tone, throwing daggers at her late husband's favorite student.

"Eh," Shikamaru cringed. "It would have been too much of a hassle to explain all that," he mumbled, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"And are you calling me a tea-leaf shrew?"

"N-no, Kurenai-sensei," Shikamaru stumbled, cowering under her heated gaze.

Iruka laughed, amused by the humorous account. Yet he remained taken by Mirai's big doe eyes. They looked to him with pure wonder. Then her cheeks puffed up, her lips stretching into a wet, toothless grin, and when her angelical giggle filled the afternoon air, Iruka felt winded, unable to cope with the rapid swelling in his heart.

"I think she's saying hello, Iruka-sensei." Kurenai laughed, grazing her fingers through the crop of dark curls on the top of Mirai's head.

"Is she now?" Iruka whispered, breathless. Mirai let go of his thumb and reached out with both hands, her fingers gripping the air with want.

"Does little Mirai want to go to Iruka-sensei?" Kurenai purred against the top of her head. The older woman looked to the chunin, enjoying the sudden nervousness in his eyes. "Would you like to hold her, Iruka-sensei?"

"Ah…s-sure," he grinned, hesitantly.

“Let me help you with all this junk, Iruka-sensei,” Shikamaru chided, freeing Iruka of his marketplace purchases. The younger man scowled at the first bag to weigh down upon his slouching shoulders. “Geez, man, what is your damage?”

“I can't help it if no one else but me restocks the storage room at the Academy,” Iruka lamented, watching Shikamaru struggle somewhat sadistically.

With the skill of a budding mother, Kurenai pulled Mirai from her holster and placed her in Iruka's outstretched arms. The shinobi in her quickly noted that, despite the younger man's hesitation, the Academy instructor knew instantly how to hold her weight, especially making sure to support her head. He seemed at peace with the dilemma, looking to her infant daughter with an ease Kurenai would not usually associate with the notoriously wrought, over-protective and ever overcautious sensei.

"You're doing me a great service, Iruka-sensei," she heaved. "Don't get me wrong; I love every moment of this, but Mirai is a lot heavier than she looks." Kurenai rubbed the junction between her neck and shoulder. "I've been carrying her around all day," she explained.

"I did offer to carry her," Shikamaru sighed.

Kurenai scoffed. "I'm still not over the fact that you fell asleep when you were supposed to be watching her. How will I know you won't put her down just anywhere to take one of your afternoon naps?"

"Give me some credit here," Shikamaru frowned.

"Hello to you too, Mirai-chan," Iruka cooed, having grown immune to all the commotion around him. All he saw was that little, perfect face grinning back at him, emitting a high-pitched squeal every so often. Even now, Mirai giggled, holding two of his fingers in a tight grip. "Yes, you're going to grow up to become a very strong fighter, just like your parents," he said, glancing up at Kurenai. The older woman mouthed a heartfelt thank you in return for his kind words. Iruka looked back to the small body in his arms. "When you're old enough and enrolled at the Academy, I'll be there to teach you the basics. You'll become one of my greatest students, just like your soon-to-be mentor."

"Oh, geez," Shikamaru sighed, looking away in discomfort. "Did you have to get all sentimental?"

It was Mirai who laughed the loudest, although her reasons were unknown. Iruka wiggled his fingers, causing her to shake, which also made her laugh.

Kurenai watched Mirai take quickly to Iruka, overwhelmed by the endearing sight. "Iruka-sensei, you're very good with children," she smiled, enjoying the chunin's softer side.

'Thanks," Iruka grinned, his face beginning to flush. "I guess I'd have to be in order to deal with them on a regular basis."

"True, but now I think I might ask you to babysit Mirai from time to time. The only other person I've seen her take to this fast is Shikamaru."

Iruka entertained the idea, gazing at little Mirai. True, he took care of children quite often, as it was his responsibility to do so when the moment they stepped on school grounds. He didn't think he was up for babysitting, however, especially a barely one-year-old infant. It definitely wouldn't be a priority he could easily fit into his schedule. Besides, Iruka thought humorously, if tending to and watching over someone constituted as baby-sitting, then he believed he was already in the process of baby-sitting a _'child'_ three years older than him and eight more of an entirely different species.

"I'd be happy to help you in any way I can, Kurenai-sensei," he said, "but my schedule is packed as it is. After a week spent dealing with my students, I think baby-sitting would only drain me of what energy I have left."

Iruka extended his arms out again, handing Mirai back to her mother. 

"Even I would think myself a good candidate, normally, but my responsibilities are keeping me very busy."

"I understand," Kurenai sighed. "It would be nice, though, to find some help that didn't have to command jonin teams AND lead Anbu now."

“What?” Iruka looked to Shikamaru, his eyes alight with pride and excitement. “Is this true?”

“Ugh... As true as it'll ever be,” Shikamaru pronounced, miserably. “I have the Hokage-sama to thank for the esteemed promotion.”

“Congratulations, Shikamaru! I knew you'd accomplish great things as a shinobi, despite the fact that you never could stop drooling over your desk for very long in my class.”

“It's just a title, Iruka-sensei.” Shikamaru scratched the back of his head in a sheepish manner so familiar to Iruka now that it hitched a breath in his lungs.

"Oh… that's right," Kurenai managed, taking hold of her daughter's weight. She placed Mirai back into her holster. "I hear Kakashi's appointed you as his assistant."

"Uh, yeah," Iruka nodded.

"I just left an interesting meeting with him, myself,” Shikamaru interjected.

“A meeting?” Iruka asked, perplexed, unaware of there having been any meeting to leave. He considered whether the last few days of his overworked schedule might have caused him to overlook something as significant as a meeting in the Hokage's timetable.

“If you're Kakashi-sama's assistant and this is your first hearing of this, Iruka-sensei, then don't sweat it. He was baffled to hear of it, too, when I told him.”

“You mean he didn't know?” Not an unusual situation for Kakashi, however, Iruka knew it more likely for Kakashi to know and not care than to not know at all. “I don't understand.”

Shikamaru stepped forward, limiting the space between him and his former sensei for a bit more discretion. “Let's just say certain someones tried to pull a fast one over his head and it backfired.”

Iruka felt something foul sink to the pit of his stomach as Mirai gave the cutest whine from within Kurenai's embrace.

“The elders.”

Shikamaru tapped the tip of his nose with an index finger.

“What about the elders?” Kurenai asked, moving closer to the two.

“I apologize, Kurenai-san,” Iruka yielded, “but I think it'd be inappropriate of me to speak of them in this way.”

“Ridiculous,” Shikamaru said, rolling a kink out of his neck. “I don't know what's going on but I'm getting a pretty good picture in broad strokes. It's been like this since the election process. I could barely get a word out, edgewise, the elders were so hell-bent on gripping Kakashi-sama by the balls.”

“Shikamaru!” Iruka and Kurenai reprimanded in unison.

“I'm tellin' it like it is,” the Jonin Commander shrugged, struggling but effectively pulling a toothpick from his pocket. He looked to Iruka as he placed the small and pointy wood between his lips. “Am I right?”

After some mental gymnastics, attempting to put his own feelings toward the elders aside, Iruka looked to Kurenai and managed, reluctantly, “Well, he's not wrong.”

“It's insanity,” Shikamaru grumbled, “that things are the way they are up top... Who knows? Asuma always said Kakashi-sama wasn't all there in the head. Maybe combating bureaucratic bull crap's his true calling.”

“Don't say that,” Kurenai cooed, bouncing Mirai gently in her arms. “Asuma and Kakashi were friends.”

"Could he not believe Kakashi-sensei strange and still be his friend?" Shikamaru argued. "I'm not saying they weren't buddies, and I'm not saying Kakashi-sensei isn't one of the greatest shinobi who ever lived. I just don't think he's right in the head; like, all the pieces aren't there, you know? Maybe that's the kick in the pants the old geezers need." He looked to Iruka, again, a profoundly troubling look on his face. "Still, to even think of him as Hokage is too surreal…it gives me a headache."

"Shikamaru," Kurenai hissed, but a light grin played across her ruby lips. "Whether Kakashi's strange or not," she looked to Iruka, "what's important is that he's a fair and just leader."

"I couldn't agree more," Iruka said, smiling.

Kurenai looked to her daughter. "Iruka-sensei…I know Kakashi-san's given you a lot of grief in the past, and he likes his jokes," she looked up again, meeting Iruka's weary gaze, "but I hope the Rokudaime is treating you well."

"He is," Iruka nodded, smiling. "Thank you, Kurenai-san."

Baby Mirai giggled.

“Do I even want to know?” Shikamaru eyed the two, curious to a troublesome fault. 

"Come on, Shikamaru." Kurenai said, hitching Mirai up against her hip. Mirai emitted a soft whine in response but was otherwise untroubled by her mother's rearranging. “It's nearly time for Mirai's next feeding,” she explained, grinning at the way Shikamaru struggled to maintain his cool demeanor under the bags hanging from his shoulders. “I'm sure Iruka-sensei still has his errands to run.”

“Oh, yes,” Iruka agreed, taking pity on Shikamaru at long last. “Here, let me...”

“FINALLY.”

Shikamaru all but threw the bags of supplies Iruka's way, helping the older man take back what he regretted having offered to hold in the first place.

“It is a school day, isn't it…?” Kurenai murmured, eyeing the beautifully clear blue sky, the entirety of Iruka's weekday weary expressed in one heartfelt sigh. “I take it this is your break?"

"I'm afraid it is," he smiled meekly, tugging at the collar of his flak jacket. He looked to the playground, again, spotting a few from his class and knowing full well that none of them would want to learn after an hour or so spent outdoors. Lethargy, the afternoon curse, would surely do him in.

"Guess we better leave you be, Iruka-sensei," Shikamaru hummed, raising a balled fist to knock playfully at his former sensei's shoulder. The older man smiled at the touch, laughed breathlessly, and Shikamaru felt the strangeness of sharing such camaraderie with a man who once chased him around a field for skipping class. It put Shikamaru off to even consider that, by title alone, he was now Iruka-sensei's superior in every way that mattered, in the shinobi world, but in no way that mattered to him. “Give the Hokage-sama a lecture from me about the importance of being on time, will ya?”

Iruka scoffed, playfully, “As if you were ever concerned with punctuality, Shikamaru.”

“I didn't say I wasn't a hypocrite.” Shikamaru grinned. 

"Take care, Iruka-sensei," Kurenai said, offering the chunin a supportive smile.

"You too," he smiled back, “especially for this little one," he added, squeezing Mirai's little hand and shaking it in farewell. She giggled again, her crimson irises filling with mirth. "Mirai-chan has her mother's eyes," he noted.

"Yes," Kurenai chuckled, "but she's definitely got her father's mischievous streak."

Shikamaru and Kurenai moved on with the rest of their day and Iruka watched them go, briefly, before continuing toward the Academy. He was strapped for more time, now, but it was nice to have bumped into a few friendly faces.

Still, it was more important that he make it back to class on time, otherwise, his students might return before him and start something Iruka was in no mood to finish. There was only one slope of land now separating him from the Academy and the training fields. He trudged down that shallow hill, holding the straps of his bags in a tight grip, before reaching even ground.

Finally arriving, Iruka raced through the building and to the storage room, first, stacking the place full with new supplies. He couldn't help but pause to make tidy, a trivial task that none of the other instructors felt obligated to perform, apparently. But putting his own judgments aside, Iruka cleaned what he could and moved on, making sure to leave the satchels hanging on the hook by the door.

The hallways were empty, void of any student or teacher, other than himself. Iruka heaved a heavy sigh, relieved by the notion that he could obtain a few moments of silence before the building exploded with trampling feet and energetic shouting. The chunin opened the door to his classroom, with closed eyes, reveling in the calm before the storm.

"…So the rumors are true then?"

It was a shame, only, that Iruka underestimated how soon that storm would come.

The chunin snapped his eyes open and regretted it the moment he had; blinked a few times, even, and widened his gaze, hoping that it was just a figment of his imagination.

It wasn't.

There stood Mitarashi Anko, leaning up against his desk.

So he turned, without a word, and closed the door. Perhaps this was his mind playing tricks on him, punishing him for not providing it the rest it so desperately desired.

"Come on, Iruka-sensei… You can tell me."

There was no ignoring that voice, and Iruka shuddered to imagine the lengths he would have to go in order to try.

"Hello, Anko-san," he finally said, turning around.

To his dismay, the woman remained, watching him with a mischievous grin. Had he never known Naruto, Iruka might have thought the expression patented to her, alone.

"The suspense is killing me, Iruka-sensei… I must know," she said, in a sing-song way, her fingers dancing across the ledge of his desk.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Iruka replied.

"Don't be that way, Iruka-sensei," she sulked, but the chunin looked on, bemused. He wasn't quite sure what 'that way' was.

Iruka perused his students' desks, checking the rows for any trash he might find on the floor. He often found broken pencils and discarded paperwork, as well, all of which he made an effort to clean up before his students returned. He would go about his routine, never minding Anko-san's presence, so whenever he found himself looking to her, he quickly glanced away, hoping that the lack of attention would annoy her and force her to leave.

"I'm not going away," she said, as though reading his mind. Iruka shot her a look, unnerved where she remained passive and content. "Once something or someone has sparked my interest, Iruka-sensei, I can't help but do some probing."

Iruka didn't respond. He knelt forward, picking up a pile of crumbled papers. He stood up again and jumped in surprise, doubling back from the tokubetsu jonin standing mere inches away from him.

"Iruka-sensei," Anko-san hummed, "I can be very persistent."

"I-I can see that," he stammered, side-stepping her.

"I'm thorough, too," she said, following behind the chunin. "I have to say, watching you cradle little Mirai-chan was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen." Iruka looked back, his eyes widening in alarm. "That baby certainly is adorable, and you didn't look half bad yourself, Iruka-sensei, what with holding her and all."

Iruka tore his watchful gaze away, moving on to the waste bin to release the trash balled up in his fists. He then walked over to his desk, putting away the few pencils he found rolling around on the floor. Then he opened the slim drawer at the top of the desk, pulling out a class assignment intended for the students to complete that afternoon.

Iruka did all of this with a puckered brow and the sternest frown upon his face.

"Oh come on, Iruka-sensei. Don't give me the cold shoulder," the woman grumbled, crossing her arms. "I was just teasing you. Besides, Kurenai-san was right: you are good with children. I think that makes you sexy," she winked.

Iruka slammed the drawer shut.

"You're supposed to be following Kakashi-sama. Not me, Anko-san."

"True," she shrugged, back to leaning against his desk, "but I got tired of falling for his decoys, so I figured it'd be easier to just follow you."

"Why?"

"Ever heard the saying, "You learn a lot about a person's lover, from the people they hang out with…?" Anko tapped her chin, feigning confusion over her own words. "No wait. I think I butchered the phrase, but you get my point."

Iruka shook his head, more annoyed now than he ever conceived imaginable. On the job, Iruka knew Mitarashi Anko to be nothing but effective and professional. On her own time and left to her own devices, however, he easily grouped his present superior in with the likes of Shiranui Genma: both shameless, unhinged gossip mongers. Anko-san smiled at him, coyly, and crossed her legs, leaning forward, and, if he hadn't known her better, he would have believed she was flirting with him.

But he did know her better.

This was simply the way Anko-san was, and Iruka got the strange impression that she was aware of how uncomfortable the way she was made him feel sometimes.

"Anko-san, it's rare that I understand you," he said, "but I know what you're trying to say. It still doesn't explain why you're here."

"I'm here to get the truth," she answered sweetly. "I've been hearing some rumors…"

"Genma-san, may I guess?"

"Well," Anko rolled her eyes, "Genma-san didn't start them, but he is a useful source of information."

"He certainly is," Iruka mumbled, sifting through different worksheets. He thought if he could concentrate on this, then Anko-san's overbearing presence might subside. But now he too was curious, reluctantly wanting to know anything about the rumors, needing to come to terms with the reality of his situation. "What is it?" He suddenly inquired.

"What is what?"

Iruka paused, the worksheets going still in the clutch of his fingers.

"What are they calling me, in these rumors? Genma-san said they had a nickname for me…" he trailed off, pitifully. Iruka looked down, in dismay, overwhelmed by the idea of not knowing who "they" were. They were a faceless mass of people, cowards who decided to while their time away spreading rumors…about him.

"Do you really want to know, Iruka-sensei?"

"Yes, I do," he shot back, instantly appalled by his tone of voice. "I apologize, Anko-san… I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's alright, Iruka-sensei. I'd be a hell of a lot angrier, if I knew folks out here were spreading rumors about me." Anko watched the chunin go about his tasks, eyeing him with pity. "As for the nickname, I'd rather not say," she admitted, softly. "It really isn't worth uttering, Iruka-sensei, and you're a far better person than anything these idiots have to make up about you."

Iruka looked to her, appreciatively. "Thank you," he said.

"Don't mention it," she said, smirking. "Still, that doesn't make me any less interested in what's going on between you and Kakashi." Iruka frantically picked up where he left off, busying himself with the subject of every worksheet.

Anko flung one arm over the other, her smirk turning into a gleeful grin.

"You know, from all the talk going about, I got the impression that this was a one-way street. But after yesterday…" she shook her head, laughing. "It definitely does take two to tango."

"You enjoy being vague, Anko-san," Iruka sighed, but he felt the panic in him rising.

"…You and Kakashi are lovers."

Iruka dropped the worksheets in his hands, resulting in a confusing mess on his desk.

"Not vague enough?"

The chunin worked quick to collect himself, glaring at Anko, while his reddening face transformed into a mixture of fear and distress.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Iruka stammered, his voice caught in his throat. He shuffled through the mess of papers, trying to make sense of them, all the while avoiding the tokubetsu jonin's penetrating stare.

"Kakashi-sama and I are n-not…lovers," he managed in a faltering whisper.

"Maybe not in the literal sense," Anko mused, shrugging. "Not yet, at least."

Iruka fumbled again, a few more papers slipping from his grasp. Anko chuckled, having reduced the chunin into an adorably distraught mess.

"There is no other sense," he hissed, his eyes shifting across the room in nervous inspection.

"Oh, the ever modest Iruka-sensei," Anko chuckled boisterously. "You really are clueless, aren't you?"

"There is nothing to be clueless about…" Growing more flustered by the second, Iruka gave up trying to group the worksheets into separate piles. He surrendered entirely, dropping all the papers with an exasperated sigh. He looked to Anko, frowning still, while the woman batted her eyes in a suggestive manner. "What are you trying to say, Anko-san?" he snapped, folding his arms. "Whatever rumors you're feeding into, I assure you, they're all lies."

"I'm not feeding into any rumors, Iruka-sensei," Anko said, frowning. "I don't need to—not after what I saw, yesterday." She stood, firm, her hands gripping at her hips.

"And what did you see?" he inquired, angrily.

Anko scowled back, annoyed by the chunin's willful ignorance.

"I saw two shinobi at peace, content in the presence of each other, which is a rare sight to come by for our kind. I watched them share the same company, the same space, caring for the same cretins. I watched them while they watched each other as though no one else on earth existed except for the two of them. I watched them visit the world, trapped in their own, all the while dodging me," she growled, pointing a finger at herself.

Iruka stepped back, though the desk standing between them acted as a buffer, from the increasingly hostile tokubetsu jonin.

"Kakashi-sama and I are friends," he managed, pathetically, but Anko was violently shaking her head 'No' before he even finished speaking.

"No," she growled. "I know what I saw, and what I saw was not friendship."

Iruka looked away, anywhere but at Anko-san.

"The rumors….they're wrong. Dead wrong. I hold no doubt that you have feelings for that show-boating bastard, but it's obvious to me that Kakashi is possessed by you. He's infatuated with you, Iruka-sensei. The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, about you… His world revolves around you!" she urged, smiling madly. Anko climbed over Iruka's desk, twirling an index finger in front of his face. "Why can't you see that you've got him wrapped around your freaking finger?"

"Anko-san, you're completely out of line!" Iruka exclaimed. He searched the classroom, again, growing paranoid. What he feared most was that someone might overhear Anko-san's deafening claims, especially when it wasn't uncommon to get the odd visitor; one especially odd visitor, who enjoyed entering, unannounced, from the window. "Please, stop this," Iruka pleaded with the woman, meeting her determined gaze with his own of desperation.

"I will," Anko agreed, moving away, "but admit it. You have feelings for him, don't you?"

"…I do," Iruka admitted, staring down at his desk.

Anko nodded, "And he has feelings for you, too."

"I…" Iruka looked back, grief in his eyes. "I don't think he does, Anko-san."

"Eh?" Anko scoffed, "Were you even listening to a thing I just said?"

"I was listening," Iruka answered, as it was difficult not to hear anything but Anko, at this point, "and I think you're wrong." Then he smiled… a smile so pathetically sad and endearing that it nearly had Anko choking on sympathy.

"Kakashi-sama…that's just the way he is."

"What?" Anko stumbled back, appalled. "I assure you, that's not the way he is. This human Kakashi you've been exposed to, showering you with affection, has never before seen the light of day."

Iruka froze, quietly petrified, watching as two long limbs swung over the windowsill and landed, feet first, on his classroom floor.

"Let me enlighten you on the real Hatake Kakashi," Anko scowled, but Iruka stopped listening.

The real Hatake Kakashi stood from his kneeling position, his half-lidded gaze watching Anko with bemused curiosity. Then he looked to Iruka, the blank expression in his eye causing Iruka's heart to pound heavily within his chest.

Kakashi smiled and waved, silently approaching from behind Anko.

"Anko-san…!" Iruka began, but Anko threw a hand in the air.

"Let me have my word, Iruka-sensei," she barked. "Sure, Hatake Kakashi is a dedicated combatant who's accomplished nothing but great things. As a soldier, he's the best of the best but, as a human being, he's a poor excuse, an automaton, really..."

"Anko-san–"

"I have a friend who ended her shinobi career quickly after finally becoming a chunin. We were at a get-together and he was sitting at the bar. She decided to approach him, and you know what he told her?"

"I can't imagine, but Anko-san–!"

"He smiled at her and said that if she'd spent less time picking up drunken men and more time training, she wouldn't have failed as a shinobi. What a heartless thing to say!"

"I know, but…" Iruka pointed behind her, but to no avail.

"Kakashi once led a security team and kicked one of my men off of it, because he said he didn't like the way my guy smiled. What a dick, right?"

Anko sneered in unbridled dislike, throwing her arms into the air.

"The Kakashi I and everyone else knows has no concept of human civility. He just says and does whatever he wants to whoever he wants, regardless of who he might trample over. He's casual about it, too," she nodded earnestly. "…Wouldn't give another person a second glance, unless they shoved an Icha Icha book in his face."

"…Is that so?"

"Ack!" Anko cried, leaping forward. She looked to Iruka, angrily. "Why didn't you say he was standing behind me?

"I tried!" Iruka exclaimed, miserably.

"Maa…Anko-san," Kakashi started, in his standard issue drawl. "I believe you're misconstruing the facts. I removed your guy from my team, because I discovered he was a spy sent from another village. His creepy smile just so happened to be a red flag."

"Oh, whatever," Anko griped, rolling her eyes.

"You're right about your friend, though," he said, his gaze drifting away. "And, for the record, she failed at picking up drunken men, too."

"It's always a pleasure to see you on such lovely afternoons, Kakashi-san," Anko sneered. "By the way, the marketplace was packed, yesterday. It was hard enough trying to keep up with the two of you, but why did you have to send out shadow clones all over the damn place?"

Kakashi stepped forward, smiling eerily.

"Anko-san…What did one of my clones tell you not to do?"

"Follow Iruka-sensei around."

"And what are you currently doing?"

"Following Iruka-sensei arou—oh…you are good," Anko winked, wagging a playful finger. She looked between the two men, smirking. "Don't blame me— I'm just covering all the bases. It's Aoba-san who believes someone from SS needs to know your whereabouts."

"And now someone does," Kakashi nodded, "but if you're assigned to follow me, Anko-san, you follow me."

"Okay, fine," she whined. "You both lead a pretty boring life, anyway. I mean, it's not like I can really see what goes on behind closed doors." She turned to Iruka, offering him that mischievous grin he dreaded so much. "In which case, I'd love to sit and watch…"

"Anko-san!" Iruka shouted, horrified.

"Ma…?" Kakashi frowned. "Watch what?"

Anko stared at the man, stunned, before exploding into laughter.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she sighed, waltzing toward the door. "I've got work to do," she shot over her collar, "but this was a gem. Take care, you two," she said, leaving.

In one great rush, Iruka felt the oxygen return to his body.

"Mm…what was she doing here, I wonder?" Kakashi breathed.

"I don't know," Iruka smiled nervously, taking a seat. He'd grown light-headed and needed to sit down.

There was a silence between himself and the older man… Iruka was certain it would have been much more comfortable if not for his own paranoia. He looked to Kakashi, out of the corner of his eyes, watching as the jonin took a seat on the edge of his desk. Then he looked down again, when he was certain the jonin was staring back at him. Iruka ignored the fluttering in his stomach, filtering through worksheets to separate what was meant to be today's work and what was meant to be tomorrow's work.

"You didn't pack a meal this morning," Kakashi said.

"I-I didn't?" Iruka agreed, his mental capabilities eluding him. "I guess I was too eager to get back to teaching and must have forgotten."

"Have you eaten?"

"No," Iruka sighed, still refusing to look up. "I went out to run an errand, and I didn't think I'd have enough time to get something to eat."

"…Okay," the jonin hummed, watching the chunin work diligently. Kakashi looked down, noting how Iruka's hands flinched, his fingers fumbling with the papers in a manner the Hokage had never seen before. "Is something wrong?"

"What?"

"Your hands are shaking."

"Oh…" Iruka looked to his hands, willing them to still. He glanced at Kakashi, briefly, slowly picking back up where he left off. That's when Kakashi got up from his desk, gaining Iruka's full attention.

"I'll go get you something to eat."

"That's alright… I don't have much time left," he sulked, his eyes darting towards the clock.

"Ne," Kakashi protested, grazing the back of his head with the glide of gloved fingers. "I'll go pick you up something, anyway. I can suffer your class, while you eat."

Iruka stared at Kakashi, the jonin's rare bouts of thoughtfulness never seizing to surprise him.

"I would really like that," Iruka said, finding himself smiling. His hands even managed to stop shaking, though.

"Good," Kakashi smiled back. "Then I'll just go do that and leave you to your work."

The jonin clasped his hands together, in a hand seal.

"Kakashi, wait...!" Iruka reddened, still not used to calling the Hokage by his first name only. He was trying to get used to it. Kakashi had paused, waiting for him to speak. It was then the chunin realized he had nothing to say. He knew what he wanted to say, what he would like to have asked. "Did you…?"

But he faltered, sinking into his seat, defeated.

"What is it, Iruka?" Kakashi asked, and the sound of his name falling from the jonin's lips nearly had him thinking about saying something he'd soon regret, all over again.

"N-nothing," he said quickly, shaking his head. "Thank you…Kakashi."

"I'll be back," the jonin smiled, disappearing in a puff of smoke.

Iruka sighed, staring at the place where Kakashi once stood, knowing full well how much he looked forward to the jonin's return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you've enjoyed ^_^


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iruka visits an old student.

"Make him stop."

Sasuke roamed the confined space at his disposal, with movements more fluid than Iruka last recalled. His appearance and surroundings had taken a turn for the better, in his opinion. Sasuke's cell, once a neglected and unkempt dwelling, had been cleaned; not to Iruka's standards, certainly, but to a degree that didn't leave his former student lying in filth. The floor had been swept, the walls scrubbed, and even the bedding on Sasuke's cot had been changed and, from the looks of it, fairly recently.

Sasuke himself looked healthier than Iruka initially anticipated, and that knowledge caused a faint smile to spread across his lips, that and knowing that he had the Rokudaime to thank for the developing changes.

Sasuke frowned, confused as to why his former sensei was smiling.

"Are you listening?"

"Uh?" Iruka blinked, staring back at Sasuke's scowling face. "Oh…sorry," he said, scratching the bridge of his nose. "You're looking much better."

"…You already said that."

"Did I?"

"Yes, you did." Sasuke grunted, retreating to his cot.

Iruka lowered his hand, gripping tightly at one knee. Held held both hands at his knees, as stiff as the rank and musty air. "I guess… that just shows how much your health really has improved," the chunin suggested, his smile only broadening.

Sasuke turned back from his cot, dragging a hand through his pitch-black hair. It had grown quite long, in the months of his incarceration.

"Naruto says I have you to thank for that, Iruka-sensei," he said.

"Well, it wasn't just me," Iruka said, looking away. He shrugged, "I, uh… I had some help."

"I know you did."

The chunin looked up, gawking in the face of Sasuke's darkened stare, and he stiffened beneath that gaze. It reminded him of a time not too long ago, when Sasuke stood over him, radiating nothing but killer intent. Not that he radiated killer intent now, but the boldness remained the same. All that was missing was the ominous glow of the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Iruka mentally chided. 'His powers are subdued.'

Not once did Iruka ever feel intimidated by the Uchiha, or frightened by him, but his inescapable stare was, and would always be, an unnerving sight to see. He tried to remember if his former student had always looked that way and could not bring forth a memory of having ever seen Sasuke smile. A smirk he'd seen, on plenty occasions, a few smiles of contempt, but the gleam in his eyes had always been cold or determined.

Sasuke looked around, slowly, distrusting his own environment. Long days and even longer nights confined to solitude left him negligibly paranoid. His brow returned to a softer, albeit troubled, expression, however, whenever he looked to his Academy sensei.

"My cell's been cleaned, my clothes and sheets changed," he emphasized that fact with a pinch of his stained, cloth-pin shirt. "The guards have been changed, as well, and they don't abuse their authority. They feed me, actually," Sasuke scoffed. "These changes do not come about so suddenly as to suggest a mere Academy sensei had anything to do with them."

"Is that so?" Iruka frowned. "I guess it makes sense to come to that conclusion."

"I meant nothing by it," Sasuke grumbled, eyeing the man wearily. He approached, wrapping pale hands loosely around the bars of his cell. "I get why that idiot's helping me." He never said a name, but with the slight roll of his eyes and the scowl across his lips, Iruka drew conclusion, knowing of only one "idiot" the Uchiha would even care to mention. "He thinks he has some moral obligation over me; thinks we're bonded, or whatever," he droned on, "thinks he wants to save me from this." Sasuke looked all around him, his repulsion inescapable, "but you, Iruka-sensei. I thought you were smarter."

"I'm not trying to save you, Sasuke," Iruka said, ignoring the insult. In some warped way, Sasuke had just paid him a compliment. "I'm trying to help you."

"Why?"

"Because," Iruka paused, giving the slightest of grins, "it's the right thing to do." He looked to his hands, his knuckles bearing white. "I didn't believe there was much I could do for you, before Naruto came to me. After all, I am a mere Academy sensei…" The chunin shrugged, staring off at the dirt floor beneath his feet. "I was never close to you, Sasuke, the way I am with Naruto, and my only tie to you seems to be through him. Regardless," Iruka looked away once more, ashamed. "I should have never let that fact stop me from visiting you. I should have tried to help you in any way I could, sooner. Even if I am just an Academy sensei."

"Iruka-sensei…"

"Naruto should have never felt the need to seek my help." The chunin sighed, riddled with guilt. True, his duty to Konoha was relatively minor in the broad sense of things, but Iruka took his responsibilities seriously, and one of those responsibilities was to look out for his students, both new and old. Even if Sasuke was stronger than he was, Iruka was still his superior and should have always been looking out for him.

"I take back what I said, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka looked up again, surprised.

"You're as much an idiot as Naruto."

Sasuke fell away from the bars, crossing his arms as he went.

Iruka fumed.

"I'm not an idiot for wanting to help you, and neither is Naruto. Not really, at least," he mumbled, his voice trailing away. The chunin would at least admit to a few times where his blonde charge had him wondering. "What's more idiotic is a convicted missing-nin heading for certain death and wanting to deny the people trying to help him."

"Not everyone," Sasuke glared, "just Naruto."

"Then who, Sasuke?" Iruka urged. "Who do you want helping you?"

"Nobody! Come here and keep me company, if it clears your conscience, but the last thing I need," Sasuke barked, "the last thing I want is naïve idiots like Naruto coming in here, trying to fill my head with false hope."

The torch flames flickered behind Iruka's head, dancing wildly. Sasuke's chakra was depleted to its barest existence, but his aura thrived with bitterness and contempt. Where his voice had once been hoarse from disuse, it again strengthened, striking the walls and reverberating down the isolated corridor.

Sasuke's mouth drew to a thin line, his eyes stern slants, and his glare demented.

"If you really want to help me, Iruka-sensei, you can start by convincing him to stop coming here," the Uchiha sneered, again, pacing before the bars.

Iruka followed him with saddened eyes. Even when the most hideous imitation of a smile smeared itself across Sasuke's face and the coldest laugh escaped Sasuke's throat, Iruka could not dismiss the misery gripping his heart.

"To think…" Sasuke chuckled lowly, throwing a fist against the wall. He leaned up against it, hovering over the rusted basin meant to be his wash sink. Then he looked to Iruka, a smirk playing on his pale face. "For a second, there, Naruto nearly had me convinced it was Kakashi who had a hand in this."

Iruka's eyes grew wide.

"How did he –?"

"Know? Tch…for once in his life, he must have thought he put two and two together," Sasuke said, staring back at the wall, "but it's not true, is it."

"It is true," Iruka said, stilling the tight grip of his knees.

"You're friends with the warden, or something. That's how you got them to stop beating me and start feeding me, I take it."

"No."

"…Friends with some of the guards, then."

"No," Iruka repeated, pointedly.

Sasuke pushed off the wall.

"Then what? What the hell did you do to get them to stop? What sacrifice are you making to try and save me from this?"

That's when a spark went off in Iruka's mind and it made sense, much more sense than it was to accept that someone as intelligent as Sasuke would defy all common sense and welcome damnation.

"Is that why you don't want him coming here, because you think he's sacrificing something for you?" Iruka scoffed at the ignited realization, unable to help himself. Nevertheless, why hadn't he seen it before? The chunin almost smiled when Sasuke neither confirmed nor denied the revelation but merely turned away from it and him. "That's it, isn't it?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," Sasuke hissed but it was lackluster, missing the boldness his baritone so heavily relied upon.

"I think I do, Sasuke." Iruka smiled sadly. "Naruto has sacrificed a great deal for you, more than he's probably aware of," the chunin sighed, staring down at the stone floor. "It's true. Stopping you from destroying the only home you've ever known, saving you from yourself, and now coming here to try and save you from persecution has tarnished his name. He, you, and I know this to be true.”

Iruka's gaze drifted, counting the bars of Sasuke's cell.

"The village and the shinobi that finally came to admire and believe in him have again turned on him because of you, Sasuke," he whispered, finally fixing his eyes on Sasuke. "He gave up his dreams for you, Sasuke. That's what you want to hear, isn't it? You want validation, for the terrible way you feel, but that's the bond Naruto feels, the bond you so recklessly toss aside.”

Sasuke advanced, his movements slow, and leaned forward, staring Iruka down in warning.

"…Tell Naruto to leave me alone."

Iruka stared back, his gaze just as firm.

"No," Iruka frowned. "I won't," he continued, his hands balling into fists. He expected the Uchiha to scoff and turn away or make some insensitive remark, but Sasuke did none of this. Instead, his inky stare bore into the chunin until Iruka believed his very thoughts were on display. It was a very familiar feeling, one often spurred by the presence of another person Iruka felt just as disturbed as Sasuke, sometimes.

"Hm," Sasuke grunted, relenting. He turned slightly, acknowledging Iruka through the corner of his eyes. "I forgot you're just as headstrong as he is."

"When it matters," Iruka agreed. His stubbornness fell shortly thereafter, his gaze falling to the floor once more. "There is something I did, though. I'm not proud of it, but, I know it was the right thing to do."

"And what was that, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka clasped his hands together, burying them into his lap. He felt restless. The fear of admitting what he'd done out loud was immense. He swallowed hard, still horrified by the ethically immoral act he had committed. It went against everything he stood for, and yet he had convinced himself that it was necessary.

"I, uh…I… There's a… Well, you see…"

"Spit it out, already," Sasuke griped. "I haven't much time left to live, as you know. I'm forced to listen to one fumbling idiot, day in and day out. So please, don't act as his substitute."

Iruka glared at the younger man.

"Team 7 is up for mission assignment," he finally managed, encouraged by Sasuke's…attitude. He was finally beginning to understand why Naruto first protested to working alongside the Uchiha. "It came into the Hokage's office and, instead of sending it back, I… I signed it with the Hokage Seal of Approval."

Iruka shook his head, as though doing so would strike down what he knew to be true. Now Team 7 would leave the village, for the first time in months. Any day now, an opportune request would come into the office assigned to Captain Yamato, Sakura, Sai, and Naruto, all because of him.

"Good," Sasuke said, though Iruka could not yet process the Uchiha's noncommittal tone. He was still trying to convince himself that what he had done was indeed 'good', as Sasuke decreed.

"It was the right thing to do," Iruka nodded, tugging at the bottom of his flak jacket. "Naruto cares a great deal for you, Sasuke, but he can't stop his life for you. I won't allow it. He must understand that he has a responsibility to the village, as well, and that he can't abandon that responsibility."

"Even if the village has turned on him, as you say," Sasuke spat, with ill-disguised disgust.

Iruka smiled.

"Even if the village turns on him, Naruto isn't the type to retaliate. He's not selfish. If not for his need to help others he might never have helped save the village and, if he could do it once, he can certainly do it again. His bond to you is his only obstacle."

"Tch…Sorry to be a bad influence."

"You're not a bad influence," Iruka frowned, "but in his pursuit to secure your future, he's forgotten his own. He needs to complete assignments, especially since becoming a jonin."

"I don't care about that," Sasuke said, fleetingly. "What's important is that he'll stop coming here."

"I didn't say that," Iruka said, eyeing the young man carefully. "I want to help you, Sasuke, but this… I didn't do this for you. I did this for Naruto, because I don't want him to give up on his dreams."

"Mm." Sasuke studied his former sensei just as well. "He doesn't know, does he?"

"No…he doesn't," Iruka sighed, feeling miserable, "and he'll be upset. Hopefully, an assignment will remind him of why he wanted to become a shinobi in the first place." The chunin grinned, the eventuality vivid in his mind.

"Sure…" Sasuke scoffed, running his fingers across the roots of his hair.

"It'll happen," scolded Iruka. "I got the guards changed, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't change the guards. Whoever you asked to change the guards, changed the guards…and to Anbu, no less," Sasuke muttered, leaning against the bars. "So who was it, Iruka-sensei? Was it the warden? I've ruled out other guards," he mentioned wistfully. "A guard would be a lower rank to Anbu. You must have asked the–"

"I asked Kakashi," Iruka cut in, unwavering. Sasuke watched him, staring at him expectantly. "I-I mean," he stammered, heat spreading across his face, "I asked Kakashi-sama."

"You're lying," Sasuke said. "Just like Naruto, you lie."

Iruka sat speechless.

"Why would Naruto lie about that?"

"Why wouldn't he? Because he knows that…" Sasuke stopped, frustrated. "The Rokudaime would never help me."

"Why are you so sure about that?" Iruka asked, but the Uchiha didn't respond.

Sasuke kept his glare fixed on the floor, now, granting Iruka nothing but the spiky tendrils of his hair to see. Iruka frowned, succumbing to frustration himself. He never thought he'd see the smartest, most capable student to ever graduate from his class believe so little in himself. Sasuke was nothing like Naruto, Iruka knew, in the sense that the young man had never been overly cheerful or optimistic, but he had always been just as strong; just as wanting, just as hopeful, and just as determined to prove himself.

Iruka stood from his stool, approaching Sasuke's cell. It was surreal to him, but Sasuke was the same height as he was now. He'd grown so much, since his genin days, and would probably stand taller than Iruka, by the time he reached his age. It made Iruka feel old, and he was only at the tail end of his twenties. Of course, more notable than his physical growth was Sasuke's mental growth and fighting capabilities. It reminded Iruka of all the events that had brought Sasuke here, now, standing before him.

It also saddened Iruka. The bloodshed and destruction…could it all have been avoided?

"I'm going to tell you something, Sasuke, something I know to be true even if there's no tangible proof." Sasuke looked up, to Iruka's dismay, because now he was certain the younger man cleared at least another thumb width above him. He was almost as tall as Kakashi. "Kakashi-sama wants to help you, more than anything, but…he's afraid."

"Kakashi…afraid," Sasuke muttered disbelievingly. "I was under the impression the man feared very little."

"Maybe, but this fear I know of," Iruka said. "I see it, every now and then. It bothers him, troubles him to hear your name, because he's afraid. He's willfully standing aside while the elders sentence you to death."

"And why does he fear this, Iruka-sensei?" Sasuke sighed. "If anything I should be afraid, not him."

"He's afraid of losing you."

Sasuke gave a hollow laugh, one that sent a chill up Iruka's spine.

"He tried to kill me, twice. He tried to kill me before I could kill Sakura, and you, or did you forget?"

Iruka looked away, a sudden surge of uncertainty coursing through him. No, he had not forgotten.

Kakashi saved him from certain death, for the second time in a matter of months: first from Pain and again from the young man now standing before him. The allying nations were in the midst of war, when Iruka approached battle-stricken ground. Except this ground was no obscure field or open plain. It was in their home, on the Academy grounds, where Iruka made rounds to ensure the safe relocation of villagers who had fallen victim to the Infinite Tsukuyomi. Then, to the chunin's shock, Sasuke appeared, not hesitating to run him through with his Susanoo's well-aimed sword.

Then Sasuke retreated and it was not an Uchiha but a commander standing over him, protecting his life.

"Yes," Iruka swallowed, "I remember…but that was different. Kakashi-sama was doing what he thought was necessary to protect the village. He felt it was his responsibility, his duty, and no one else's. Not even Naruto's."

"Why?”

"Naruto always used to complain about how Kakashi favored you more than him and Sakura. I think he took an interest in you, more than anything," Iruka grinned softly, "because he saw himself in you. He understood your pain. He believed he failed you and that he alone deserved to make things right again."

Sasuke stared at him blankly.

"It's honor, Sasuke," Iruka smiled.

"You're insane, Iruka-sensei," Sasuke stated slowly.

"Well, you're one to talk," Iruka snapped, reddening in the face.

Sasuke smirked.

Iruka looked to him, sighing deeply. He knew what it was Kakashi felt for Sasuke, knew what it felt like to believe in someone so much, to understand and connect with someone so strongly that to see them lose sight of themselves manifested in hateful, unspoken denial.

Iruka knew, sensed that Kakashi shared this bond with Sasuke, because he shared that same bond with Naruto.

"You know," Iruka started, "you and Kakashi-sama are a lot alike."

"So it would seem," Sasuke sneered, "and were I him, I would forget all about me. Leave me here to rot."

"Self-pity…" Iruka hummed, crossing his arms, but then he entertained an amusing idea. The chunin drawled on, in his best imitation of Kakashi. He even gripped the bottom of his chin and closed his eyes, in the same smug manner as the Rokudaime. "The Sasuke I knew was at the top of his class and admired by all his peers. He excelled but, when he failed, he never felt sorry for himself."

"The Sasuke you knew was a fake," Sasuke hissed back, "who was determined to avenge his clan and kill the man responsible for its demise. But that was all a lie, because the man who destroyed my clan was no man but a village that betrayed them."

Sasuke retreated to his cot and Iruka's face fell, watching him go. He welcomed the impending silence, as it gave him time to regroup his thoughts. There was no humor in Sasuke, not that Iruka expected there to be, and he himself felt shame; shame for the actions of Konoha and the truth that everyone now knew but were doing everything in their power to forget, but not Sasuke. How could he forget?

Iruka could say nothing about Sasuke's motives. After all, he feared to imagine what he might have done, how he would have retaliated had it been his clan, his family.

"…You need to eat," Iruka murmured, decidedly focused on Sasuke's light-weighted gait.

"They gave me my first meal already, Iruka-sensei. They're feeding me, but they're not being generous," Sasuke turned. "I've stopped counting the days, but the hours are long and memorable. My first meal came three hours before you even showed up."

"It's a Wednesday," Iruka replied, his eyes wandering over Sasuke's still too pale and too malnourished frame. "And I don't care if they gave you your first meal. Your size, your height, and the demand of your spiritual energy require a certain amount of nourishment. This is abuse, even for a prisoner." Iruka snapped his hands to his waist, anger in his eyes. "It's more than starvation– they could kill you."

"I believe that's the idea, Iruka-sensei," Sasuke breathed, leaning back against his cot.

Iruka frowned.

"You're okay with that?"

"Two meals a day?"

"No, I meant–"

"I know what you meant," Sasuke smirked, tilting his head. "Dying, being executed…" Sasuke's brow furrowed. His eyes looked off, somewhere far beyond Iruka's person. "Unlike Kakashi, I maintain no fears. Starving is a minor inconvenience… I didn't ask for help. I did not ask Naruto to go to you. I did not ask you to come here with food and water, to wonder about how I was and if I was all right, and I did not ask for help from this mysterious person you claim to be none other than Hatake Kakashi.”

Sasuke paused, his eyes drawing loss of life.

“...I do not fear death, because there is nothing left to live for."

"I know you don't believe that," Iruka whispered.

Sasuke glared, his eyes darting toward the chunin.

"You know? Iruka-sensei, you don't know anything about me," Sasuke growled. "I'm not Naruto, so don't believe I'll feed into your naive ideology. Don't patronize me."

"That's not what I meant to…" Iruka stopped short. Words had failed him. He held very little stance to prove the young man wrong. It was glaringly obvious to Iruka that the Sasuke he once knew was not the Sasuke sitting before him now. Perhaps the Sasuke he had known was not all he appeared to be after all. Who was he to say that Sasuke didn't always feel this way? Iruka gazed upon the Uchiha's features: his chalky white skin, matted hair, and steely stare, but not once could he convince himself that a nihilistic, cold-blooded killer was all that remained of him.

It was a façade Iruka refused to buy into, just like Naruto.

Still, there would be no convincing Sasuke. Not right now, at least. Iruka anticipated many more visits where he could learn a little more about his once most promising student.

"I'm going to bring back something for you to eat," Iruka relented, "and that is not up for debate." He retreated from standing so close to the cell, self-consciously straitening his flak jacket and smoothing out the creases in his uniform. He felt his face heating up in light of the unrelenting gaze Sasuke had fixed on him. "Two meals a day," he mumbled on, shaking his head. "That's ridiculous. If anything, you should be eating four meals a day…at the very least."

Sasuke pushed off his arms, leaning forward. "How do you plan to do this, Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka stopped just under the arch of the connected corridor, his stern stare considering the question. "I'm going to ask them to send in your second meal now, or I'll bring it myself, and I'm going to demand that they feed you more than two measly meals a day."

"Cheh," Sasuke scoffed. "Your temper is something unsettling, but I doubt it will work on Anbu guards."

"It damn well better," Iruka said, baring teeth. "I mean… I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement." He then blushed, scratching the bridge of his nose. "I'll be back," he said, hearing his voice echo down the corridor.

"Iruka-sensei."

"Yes?"

Iruka reared back at the sound of his name. Sasuke sat just as he had before and, just as before, offered Iruka a steely stare the chunin had to admit he was growing used to.

"That day, when I tried to kill you," Sasuke blinked, his eyelids slow to reveal his unwavering gaze. Iruka felt they lacked a certain element, the bright glow of his bloodline limit ability, the Rinnegan and the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan. As it was, it remained repressed under the weight of chakra restraints. "It wasn't duty that tempted Kakashi into killing me... He lied to me."

"About what?" Iruka looked on, his curiosity kindled.

"…Loss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi deals with the covert training operations of his newly made charges while Iruka doesn't deal with the fallout that is Anko's big mouth.

Icha Icha remained craftily concealed in Kakashi's back pocket. There was no need to pull it out– he was somewhat entertained, already. The bell test, he thought, what a waste of time and energy: the planning, the traps, and the decisive measures taken to set up surveillance points. Many times Kakashi had executed, what he believed to be, these necessary precautions. He did anything and everything to avoid acquiring a genin team, anything short of overt sabotage, and that included creating an environment just hostile enough to discourage those ambitious, aspiring genin hopefuls.

This, however, proved something far more rewarding.

"Ease up a little, will ya!" Tsuki wheezed, dodging another blow, but his opponent showed no mercy.

Take regrouped, swinging forward with a solid fist, and Tsuki threw his arms above his head, blocking in a fleeting attempt to retaliate.

"Fight back!" Take growled.

"What do you think I've been doing this whole time?" Tsuki cried out, ducking, but Take saw through his slow movements. The smaller boy dipped low, extended one leg, and swiped, sweeping Tsuki off his feet. The older boy hissed, the back of his head hitting the ground with a tremendous thud. "Damn it," he groaned, rolling on his back.

Take looked on, breathing heavily, with strain etched into his brow.

Kakashi watched the two boys fight, relaxed against his tree-post. He'd been monitoring the two for a couple of hours now, taking note of their gradually developing technique. Take's skills progressed faster than Tsuki's, as Tsuki's progression seemed so stagnate as to be deemed regressive in nature. Blocking, dodging, and retreating seemed to be his only redeeming qualities, and all of those maneuvers made for adequate defense but showed very little offense capability. If only Tsuki possessed a stronger spiritual energy, to compensate for his weak taijutsu. As it was, as a whole, Tsuki's chakra was no greater than that of a young and inexperienced pre-genin.

Take scowled, gripping the dirt beneath his fingers.

"You're pathetic," he spat, rising.

"You made that pretty clear the first bajillion times you said it, thanks," Tsuki cringed, looking up.

Take reached over, his hand outstretched, and Tsuki took hold of it, pulling himself from off the ground.

"You ready to go again?" Take asked, impatiently, but Tsuki waved him off.

"Just give me a sec…" The slightly older boy panted, tired from their melee. Where Take remained relatively composed, Tsuki seemed dazed, not yet used to the rigor of training. Kakashi remained beside himself, anxious to see what kind of shinobi the redhead would prove to be. After all, Take's overwhelming amount of chakra left the Hokage with no doubt of where his first charge would excel, but it was Tsuki's slow development, in every aspect of fighting, that made him the ideal opponent. In time he would develop, dealing improved and varied techniques that might catch his younger friend off-guard.

To think of it this way made Kakashi all that more eager to see them both progress, rather than devote his efforts to Take's strengths alone.

From what he could tell, however, the once reluctant Take had taken a fast acceptance to Tsuki's involvement, complaining very little and training even harder. This amused Kakashi. Beating up a scarecrow did not compare to the exhilaration felt when up against a real-life opponent, a fact no longer lost on his silver-headed charge.

As for the training itself, Kakashi had very little difficulty interesting Take and Tsuki in what he had to teach them. He instructed them on specific moves that he expected them to master and exercises that quickly possessed their eager, young minds. Take learned faster than Tsuki and did not hesitate to beat his newly acquired knowledge into the other boy.

So Kakashi looked on, more or less, invisible.

"You're always stopping," Take complained but took hold of Tsuki's shoulder, allowing Tsuki to collect himself.

"What do you expect?" Tsuki grumbled, wiping the dirt from his butt. "You keep coming at me, like a crazed maniac. I can barely catch my breath. Yeesh…! You're trying to kill me, Take."

"I wouldn't do such a thing," Take mumbled, brushing the dirt from Tsuki's shoulders. "If I killed you, who would train with me."

Tsuki grinned, wiping spittle from the corner of his mouth.

"You ready?" Take asked, taking a few measured steps back.

Tsuki eyed him, backing into his own fighting stance. "Take your best shot."

Take attacked him, not one to hold anything back, and Tsuki dodged, just in time to avoid an elbow to the jaw.

"Nice try!" Tsuki yelled, skidding back. The redhead ran forward, grinning madly, only to stop short when he realized that there was no one in sight to charge. "What the…?"

"Hiyah!" Take leaped behind the other boy, planting a sharp kick between Tsuki's shoulder blades. The boy howled in pain, crashing into the dry, merciless ground. Take landed, seconds after Tsuki, standing over the other boy's pain-stricken body.

Kakashi jolted but remained at his post. As one of his conditions, he told the boys that he wouldn't intervene, so long as he remained aware of the situation. The jonin saw what had happened, saw Take channel his chakra into the maneuver, maintaining the attack with very little control. That lack of control sent Tsuki, who possessed a very weak stance, flying into the air. Now, Tsuki would suffer a few minor scrapes and bruises but nothing too serious; nothing that would gain the attention of a fretful, overly worried and ever-watchful chunin sensei who, if ever he found out about any of this, would deal Kakashi a very lengthy lecture followed by the coldest of shoulders and then death, strictly, in that order.

It was necessary, the jonin believed, that Take and Tsuki see the difference between their Academy exercises and the training they completed here. Kakashi was not in the business of holding hands, a handicap he was certain they'd grown quite accustom to at the Academy. If they wanted to train, if they wanted to learn, then they would learn in the manner Kakashi was taught, many years ago. The White Fang showed him very little sympathy when he experienced pain and no mercy when he fumbled or miscalculated the effectiveness of his attacks, because the White Fang knew that the life of a shinobi was no duty to take lightly. To treat it as some family inheritance was shameful; if one wanted to possess the Will of Fire, like the White Fang, then one had to prove self-dedicated beyond all comparison.

Kakashi crossed his arms over his midsection, readjusting himself against the tree bark. There was another reason the jonin chose not to get between Take and Tsuki's sparring matches, the reason responsible for his recent epiphany.

"Are you okay?" Take asked, kneeling low. He examined the other boy, hovering over Tsuki, who rolled over in agony.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, I'm fine," Tsuki chanted in repetition, clutching at his side. With a furrowed brow, Take reached down again to help his classmate to his feet. Tsuki swung his arm out, grasping Take's forearm.

"You're an idiot," Take said, rolling his eyes.

"Heh," Tsuki smirked.

Take helped Tsuki to his feet, and Kakashi watched this seemingly insignificant act with some satisfaction.

The purpose of the bell test was to see if a group of individual fighters could come together, as a team, to achieve a common goal. Granted, Kakashi once despised the idea of taking on a team, but he was willing to tolerate a group of genin who could complete this simple feat. Before Team 7, no other group of graduating pre-genin managed to come close. More than anything, they failed to come to terms with the idea of team-based succession. The strongest of a newly formed team would try to overpower his or her teammates, while the smartest attempted to foil their tactics, leaving the weakest member to try, and fail, to take the bells alone. Kakashi believed this to be a sound divide, were there three bells to take, but there being only two bells changed the dynamic and the purpose of the test from individual gain to a common goal.

Kakashi never expected a group of recently Academy graduated genin to understand this concept. Out of all the groups he tested, including the one team he passed, not one came to realize that working together would be the only way to beat the test. Nevertheless, teamwork was an inherent trait of a true shinobi, one that would manifest through even the most pathetic team of recently Academy graduated genin.

The goal of these training sessions would be quite simple: to improve fighting technique. Alone, Take could accomplish this relatively fast. With Tsuki around, however, Kakashi had doubts. Take, who prided himself on being far more advanced than his peers, surely wouldn't tolerate the lag Tsuki would definitely bring to training. At best, Kakashi expected Take to protest and train, reluctantly, with Tsuki, solely to prove his superiority.

This didn't appear to be the case, however.

Kakashi watched them fight, and he could say with some accuracy that Tsuki spent more time on the ground than he did attacking his opponent. But whenever Take knocked the redhead down, the response was always the same. Take assisted the other boy, sometimes going as far as to show Tsuki what he'd done wrong, and the two were back to sparring. Take showed no disgust for Tsuki's obvious lack of skill, and Tsuki held no resentment for his constant defeat. They behaved not as opponents in the traditional sense but as teammates fighting each other to better hone their skills.

Tsuki's unwillingness to back down and Take's refusal to hold back demonstrated a clear understanding of mutual gain, as the two worked to achieve a common goal. The two young boys understood what older, genin teams, and even some established shinobi, did not and in a manner more productive than chasing Kakashi for his bells.

So Kakashi looked on, pleased, wondering why he never before thought to have genin teams fight one another. It would have been more helpful to have them believing that a sure spot on the team was granted to the person who defeated their teammates. If truly meant to be a shinobi, the genin would come to realize that turning against a teammate and sacrificing them for a mere personal gain would be a sure way to fail.

"Ma…Take, Tsuki," Kakashi called out, stopping the two boys before they could begin another row. They turned to him, their faces marred with scrapes and smudged with dirt. The jonin could tell they were doing their best to conceal how tired they were, so not to disappoint him or each other. Kakashi thought it endearing, pitifully so, especially since both boys looked ready to drop on the spot. "We're done for today," he said, waving them over.

"Good." Take gave Tsuki a side glance. "I'm tired of beating the crap out of you," he breathed, stalking away.

Tsuki followed behind, grinning stupidly. "You weren't beating me. I almost had you that last time."

"What last time?" Take growled, staring at the other boy as though he'd lost his mind. Tsuki broke out into a laugh, wrapping an arm around the smaller boy, and Take gave Tsuki a dirty look but did nothing more, too proud to admit how tired he was to push Tsuki's dead weight off of him. Instead, he turned his attention to the jonin standing at a distance, incapable of all but glaring at the man.

"Hey, Hokage-sama."

"Mm?"

Tsuki released his hold on Take, running towards Kakashi. "When do I get to fight you?"

"Ne…?" Kakashi's dull gaze fell on the boy, his visible brow rising ever so slightly. Tsuki watched him, with the widest smile and the buggiest blue-eyed stare Kakashi hadn't seen since a very young and eager Naruto. "Never," he replied.

"Eh?" Tsuki whined, frowning.

"No one's going to fight him before me," Take scowled, snapping his arms together.

Kakashi sighed, shoving his hands down his front pockets. "Ne, I'm not fighting anyone. Not yet," he drawled. "Take, your taijutsu has improved, but there's far more you need to learn before you can fight me. Tsuki," Kakashi paused, a smile forming in his eye, "you've got some way to go. Take's taren ken was met with raised arms when I specifically instructed you to duck and swipe."

"I did that," Tsuki sulked, "but Take jumped."

"And the shou-geki-shou?"

The redhead rubbed the nape of his neck, grimacing. "That's how I ended up on the ground that last time. Take used it first."

"Then you use it second. With any luck, it'll give you the opportunity to catch your opponent off-guard, using their move against them." In theory, it seemed ineffective. In practice, imitation was a highly effective technique. Being the Copy Nin he was, Kakashi knew this to be a tried and true fact. “Grab your stuff. It's time to go."

Take and Tsuki grumbled but clamored near the base of the tree to pick up their school bags. Kakashi waited for them, staring into the distance. The sun was setting, leading the afternoon into a twilight hour, where the first signs of nightfall crept up behind the compound nearby. He figured now would be a good time to walk the two boys back to the center of the village, before their familiars began to wonder where they were.

"Hokage-sama, what is this place?" Tsuki asked, pulling his bag over his shoulder.

"We're on clan grounds," Kakashi replied, "on the outskirts of the village."

"Ooh," Tsuki cooed. "What clan is it?"

"An extinct one," Kakashi went on to say, walking away. The two boys caught up with him, following beside him, their haggard footsteps picking up puffs of dust and dirt. He set the speed of their trek to a moderately slow pace, in light of their worn-out state, but Kakashi did not intend to wait for them. He wanted to return them at a decent time but, more importantly, Kakashi didn't want to be caught in the late night crowds and shift changeovers. In addition, he was not aware of Tsuki's family situation. Unlike Take, he might have parents in the village, somewhere, wondering where he was. They would most likely turn to their son's Academy instructor as the last adult to have seen their child.

"An extinct one? As in dead?" Tsuki stopped, frowning. "That's terrible."

"Not really," Kakashi said. "Clans come and go, as people do. The family name may be lost, but bloodlines can live on through external unions."

"Huh?" Tsuki gripped the arm of his bag, catching up at last.

The jonin shrugged. "Villagers of great nations tend to live under a ridiculous misconception."

"What's that?" Take asked.

Kakashi looked down, casually, his eye a half-lidded stare.

"The strongest clans are known by distinct traits that don't always show up in every member but are frequent enough to leave a signature of sorts. When outsiders see this signature, they assume these traits survived solely on a succession of unions from within the family."

"Ugh!" Tsuki made a face.

Kakashi ruffled through silver strands of hair. "It's not what you think," he chuckled nervously. "The relations are kept relatively distant."

"So…then how do these bloodlines live on?"

“The misconception is this," Kakashi continued, "because certain traits are so strong and reoccurring, the fact that many clan families divide and migrate is often overlooked." Kakashi looked back, but the high stone walls and iron-plated gates had long since been etched into his memory. "The clan that once lived here…is not really dead. It lives on, in other nations, thriving under different names."

"Cool!" Tsuki beamed. "You hear that, Take? Clans live all over the place. Hey, maybe someone from my family married into a clan…I could be related to a king! Take? Take!"

Kakashi reacted fast, just as Tsuki caught sight of his falling friend. The jonin scooped Take up before he collapsed to the ground. He palmed the small boy's head, taking note of his closed eyes and softening brow.

"W-what's wrong with him?" Tsuki stammered, hovering between the two.

Kakashi knelt down.

"He passed out, exhausted," the jonin said, running a hand down the side of Take's face. Beyond the dirt, the grime and sweat, lay heated skin, despite the biting cold. He pressed his hand to the boy's chest, registering his deep breathing. "He's overworked. Probably wasn't training on enough energy to begin with," he told Tsuki, but his one visible eye remained alert and fixed on Take.

Kakashi hooked an arm beneath Take's legs and picked him up, wrapping the boy's limbs around his shoulders and midsection, and cupped his hands beneath the boy's legs as he situated his dead weight against his back. He turned to Tsuki, offering the rattled boy a reassuring smile.

"He'll be fine," he said. "Take's been pushed to perform some very tiring technique. I should have known he'd be too stubborn to quit while he was ahead."

"This didn't happen last time," Tsuki whimpered.

Kakashi glanced back, gathering Take in his peripheral sight. So accustom to a scowl and furrowed brow that the peaceful expression on the boy's face stood out as devastatingly alarming.

"No, it didn't," Kakashi agreed, "but I'm sure there are plenty of factors contributing to Take's exhaustion. A low energy, for example, something he's gone to great lengths to conceal."

"Conceal? What do you mean by that?" Tsuki asked, but Kakashi didn't answer. He put his own unease aside, offering Tsuki another crinkled grin. The boy was too unsettled, his eyes darting to Take more times than Kakashi cared to count. He expressed a strong sense of worry, enough to challenge that of the most overly distraught Iruka.

Kakashi reached out, patting the top of Tsuki's head.

"Na, na…never you mind," he murmured. "It's nothing serious."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay," Tsuki exhaled, looking to Kakashi with a hesitant grin. "I trust you, Hokage-sama."

"Good," Kakashi nodded. "Shall we proceed?"

The two walked on, with Kakashi carrying Take on his back. Tsuki reached down to pick up Take's bag. It was a small messenger bag, with only a notebook and a few loose-leaf papers in it, so he made quick to unzip his own bag and shove Take's inside. When he was done, he quickened his steps, catching up to match the Hokage's pace.

"It's getting dark sooner," Tsuki commented, filling the silence. He looked up above, through the gaps in the trees, to watch as the first few stars appeared in the sky.

"The seasons are changing," Kakashi supplied.

"Why are we coming all the way out here to train, anyway? Why couldn't we just use the training grounds?"

"Mah…training grounds are common use," he explained, "and clan grounds are private property. People are less likely to come by this way," and were someone to search for the Hokage, it would most likely be the last place they'd look. "This is a very secluded area, removing the possibility of detection."

"Are we hiding from someone?"

"…You could say that," the jonin replied, his eye fixed on the road ahead. The thought of that particular someone came to mind, forcing him to marvel on the irony. In the last two days, Kakashi had seen less of a certain chunin sensei than usual. Bringing Take and Tsuki to train this far from the center of the village was an auxiliary measure more than a real need for evasiveness. Kakashi still felt it necessary, however, even if a certain chunin sensei appeared to be avoiding him.

"Is it Iruka-sensei?"

"Mm?" Kakashi's visible eye grew wide, staring down at Tsuki. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know," Tsuki said, shrugging. "Take says you're afraid of Iruka-sensei. He said you'll stop training him if Iruka-sensei finds out. Why's that?"

Deep blue eyes stared back at him, questioningly, and Kakashi knew what he wanted to tell the boy. It would have been easy to tell him exactly what he told Take, that telling Iruka-sensei would be a bad idea and leave it at that. On the other hand, he could tell Tsuki the truth, that his and Take's safety was and would always be Iruka-sensei's first priority, and training with an elite, former Anbu Hokage was as far from safe as it could possibly get.

"You're familiar with Iruka-sensei, I'm sure."

"Familiar?" Tsuki snickered. "You bet! He says I'm a troublemaker and that he has to keep an eye on me, but that's only because I'm his favorite and he knows it," the redhead boasted.

"Of course." Kakashi kept a thin smile, but his eyebrow disappeared beneath his headband. "Anyway, Iruka-sensei's favorite student must especially know how passionate he is about teaching his students," Tsuki nodded eagerly, beaming at the jonin, "but what matters to Iruka-sensei even more than that is his students' wellbeing. Understand?"

"I think so," Tsuki muttered. "Are you going to hurt Take then?"

"Not if I can help it," he uttered, squeezing Take's leg, "which is why you and Take must train together– grow stronger, together. Take's chakra is very strong but unpredictable, and he should learn to control it sooner than later. For this, the Academy cannot help him, despite all Iruka-sensei's good intentions. Though..." Kakashi breathed, twigs cracking and snapping beneath their footsteps. He looked down to the grimy knuckles dangling beneath his chin. "Take's a very smart boy. I'm sure his inability to control himself is the reason he has yet to graduate before the cut-off age."

"What about me?" Tsuki started to sulk, clutching to the strap of his bag. "Do I have strong chakra? I mean, Take's right… I am a bit pathetic, ain't I," he went on to mumble, staring at the ground, "and the other kids say I'm useless in exercises…"

"Your energy is adequate enough," Kakashi said, wanting to encourage the boy for reasons beyond his comprehension. He reached out again, ruffling through Tsuki's hair. "You're no different than your peers. They're just as inexperienced as you are, and they don't have the advantage of training with the Rokudaime," Kakashi mentioned, watching Tsuki's spirit rise. "Remember that, Tsuki."

"Yes sir!" Tsuki grinned.

"And remember," Kakashi smiled, raising an index finger into the air. "If Iruka-sensei finds out that the Hokage is teaching his young students advance and dangerous technique, the Hokage will end up in a lot of trouble."

"Yes sir!" Tsuki grinned, saluting playfully.

Kakashi and Tsuki walked on in silence, filling the void with rustling and shuffling sounds. The deeper into the forest they traveled, the more plentiful the foliage, and the two eventually found themselves treading over large patches of fallen branches and leaves. The many thick trees lining the narrowing path had effectively blotted out the sky.

"Hey, Hokage-sama?"

"Hm?"

"Why do we have to train so late?"

"Mm...Because the Academy doesn't let out until three."

Tsuki gazed up, his face drooping. "We've been training since then and it's almost night time. Ever since Iruka-sensei came back, he's been giving us tons of homework and, if I don't pass this week's test, Baa-chan will have my head!" he whined. "She's a tough old lady to please, ya know."

"I take it you live with your grandmother?" Kakashi asked, strangely intrigued.

"Yep," Tsuki nodded, "She's the oldest lady I know. She's also the strongest," the redhead grumbled, "and if I show up late again, she's going to whack me with her broomstick."

Kakashi gave Tsuki a pitying smile.

"Tell her you're training with the Hokage."

"Really?"

"No."

"Oh."

"That was a joke."

Tsuki looked down, scrunching his face.

"Hm…" Kakashi hummed, readjusting Take's limbs. To the untrained eye, the forest seemed like an endless field of brush and tree. Kakashi, however, was an expert of these parts and knew the length and direction of every path. Their party would soon land themselves on the edge of the training grounds and with enough time to spare. "I guess we could afford to shorten our sessions," the jonin muttered, thoughtfully.

"Yosh!" Tsuki threw a fist in the air.

"Still, we should start as soon as possible. Iruka-sensei's shift starts at three-thirty. I figured he'd be too busy to come looking for me. If he does come looking for me, he'll certainly find me," he shrugged, "something he's surprisingly good at." Kakashi continued, "If he finds me, he'll certainly discover what we're doing…"

He looked to Tsuki.

"...Let's push training to three-thirty and end at five. That should give you plenty of time to finish your homework and return home at a more suitable hour," Kakashi finished, expecting Tsuki to leap up with joy or tackle him, all expected responses. To his surprise, Tsuki remained beside him, tilting his head, his stubborn stare shifty and indiscernible. "Yes?"

"…Take was right. You really are afraid of Iruka-sensei, aren't you?" The boy began to snicker, until his shaking shoulders gave way to a boisterous laugh. The sound of his cackling disturbed their environment, like birds that chirped and flew away. "I don't believe it!" he exclaimed, his eyes squeezing shut. "The Hokage is afraid of Iruka-sensei!"

"Maa…" Kakashi's eye narrowed in on the laughing boy. "No need for ridiculous claims," he stated, tightly, but his words went unheard.

"Wow…" Tsuki marveled at this newfound knowledge, his eyes bulging with all the possibilities. "My sensei is feared by the Hokage. He must be tough!" Tsuki grinned. "I mean, I knew Iruka-sensei was tough, but I didn't think he was that tough. I wonder what he would do to you, if he found out!"

Properly badger me to death, Kakashi thought, but to fear Iruka's lectures was not a real fear, was it?

"I don't want my favorite grown-up to be responsible for hurting the Rokudaime!"

"Ne–"

"Is it true? Could Iruka-sensei really hurt you?"

Kakashi went to speak but stopped himself, contemplating the question. That's when a familiar fear gripped him, and it was brief but strong, like the lingering pangs of a battle wound. This fear crept up on him, every now and then; at the memorial stone, mostly, where he visited those already taken from him. He never thought he'd feel the same fear for someone who threatened to leave him.

"There are many ways to hurt someone, Tsuki," he said at last.

There was a moment of silence.

Tsuki fixed him a beady stare, but Kakashi adamantly ignored it.

"You didn't answer my question," the redhead grumbled.

"Now, now," Kakashi waved, "let's not dilly-dally. Look there…" He nodded towards the distant opening at the end of the path, its arched entrance growing wider with every step. "We're almost at the training grounds. You should head straight home when we reach the main road."

Kakashi turned toward the boy, his eye smiling.

"We wouldn't want you to get whacked with a broomstick, now would we?"

 

* * *

  
"What's up, lover boy?"

Iruka froze, the papers in his hands growing still. Only his eyes managed to move, snapping up at the tokubetsu jonin in a state of sheer terror. There stood Anko, leaning up against his desk, with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.

"Anko."

"Who else?" she sang, winking, and Iruka wanted nothing more than to wipe the smugness from her glossy lips.

The chunin gazed around, paranoid, searching the room with a flustered stare. The missions room remained relatively empty, for the hour, which Iruka found both a fortune and a shame. His shift was nearly over, so there was nothing more pleasing to the eye than not seeing a line of shinobi so long that it reached out the door and down the hall.

Once Iruka finished filing these reports, he was free to leave, go home, and call it an early night. At the same time, the idea of leaving the office in this barren state left him disgruntled if not a bit peeved. Why was the missions room always bustling with activity, busy and to its full capacity, during his shift? Why not on someone else's shift like, say, during Genma's shift? The other man slacked off more than any other shinobi he knew, and Iruka knew plenty of lazy shinobi.

"Don't call me that," Iruka hissed. He worked fast at cleaning up his desk, reordering reports at top speed. At the end of the day, he liked to pile them up in alphabetical order. Doing so made the sorting process easier.

"What? Don't call you 'Lover Boy', Lover Boy?" Anko purred, chuckling at the sight of Iruka's beet-red face. "Oh come on, Iruka-sensei. I'm only having fun with you."

"I wish you wouldn't," Iruka huffed. "Anko-san…"

He sighed, keeping his grumbles low. True, the two other workers seated beside him had already clocked out, but there remained two other colleagues on both ends of the table. In the lounge area, two chunin sat chatting between themselves and, in the corner of the room, stood a returning jonin hastily filling out a last-minute report.

The jonin had come barging into the room, drenched in sweat and covered in dirt, hoping that someone at the desk would take pity on him. It was then that the two workers sitting beside Iruka left, while the two at each end completely ignored the desperate jonin. Iruka ended up taking pity on the jonin, knowing that doing so would only delay his own departure even further.

He gave him five minutes to complete the report and write out a cover form explaining why the report was late.

"…Anko-san, I acknowledge that you and I have been on good terms for many years now, but yesterday was highly inappropriate."

Iruka's voice grew stern.

"You had no right to delve into my personal life the way you did. Who I'm with and what I do, outside of work, is none of your business. So please, don't ever again take advantage of our friendship like that."

Iruka looked away and gulped, the warmth of nervousness rushing to his face.

"Iruka-sensei," Anko whispered, her surprise making Iruka feel even guiltier. "That's a load of crap, and you know it."

"What?"

"Please," Anko sighed, rolling her eyes. "Don't punish me, just because I'm the only one capable of reading between the lines." She sat in her hip, gripping her trench coat tightly. "I'm willing to bet you've talked plenty with Izumo and Kotetsu, and yet you don't get mad at them when they throw the truth in your face. My…" Anko leaned in, resting her elbows against the table. She whimpered, teasingly, holding her chin in the palms of her hands. "Was it the circumstance? Are you afraid your ignorant love interest might have overheard?"

"Yes," Iruka hissed, his eyes shifting from side to side, "just as I fear people here will overhear. No offense, Anko-san, but you're not exactly discreet."

"None taken, Iruka-sensei," she said, and proudly so, "but even you should know that I would never betray your trust." She pulled away from the desk, frowning. "I honestly had no idea he'd come swinging in through the windowsill like that. I would have never brought it up, had I known the jerk was on the prowl."

"I know, Anko-san."

Iruka managed a thin-lipped smile, going about his newly made work. He glanced sparingly over to the jonin in the corner, the shinobi now speed-writing across the pages he had so carelessly shoved up against a bland blue wall. It made the chunin feel better knowing that he'd sacrificed an early exit for a jonin who clearly cared about submitting a report in a timely manner. Unlike some other jonin Iruka knew, one who never broke a sweat and sometimes even had the audacity to admit not bothering to complete a report.

The chunin shook his head.

"Do you know?"

"Know what, Anko-san?"

Anko bit her lip, readjusting the belt around her waist.

"Do you think he overheard us talking?" she clarified, a foreign look of unease resting in her eyes. Iruka could have laughed. There stood Mitarashi Anko, a woman he knew to fear nothing but fear itself, fettered by worry over him and his predicament. Yet he could not possibly laugh, not even if someone had told him the most gut-wrenching joke. He, too, was overwhelmed by worry, coupled with fear and embarrassment. Iruka had gone out of his way to avoid Kakashi, as of late: leaving for the Academy at an earlier hour, using his lunch hour to run errands, and taking shorter shifts to return home and seemingly fall asleep before the jonin returned.

Iruka had spent the last two nights in bed, unable to sleep at such an early hour, staring at the ceiling and repeating the same question over and over again as he lied awake.

"I honestly don't know," Iruka said pitifully, closing his eyes. "I've been avoiding him," he admitted, throwing another report on top of a growing pile.

"You think that's a good idea?" Anko looked around, leaning forward once more. "I mean, he's bound to notice something's up, eventually. This is Kakashi we're talking about," she whispered.

"You don't have to remind me," the chunin grumbled, his shoulders falling in resignation. "Maybe I should head into his offices…pay him a visit."

"Good luck with that," Anko snorted, crossing her arms.

"What do you mean by that?" Iruka frowned.

"I've been tailing that insufferable man, all damn day," she growled, looking away. She looked positively pissed, leaving Iruka to guess that something had gone tragically wrong in her perfectly planned tracking. "I leave for a second, one second, to have a meeting with my unit, and, the next thing I know, poof! He's gone!" Anko threw her arms into the air, catching the other two desk workers' attention. Then they resumed their processes, packing their bags to leave. "That bastard's been gone from his office since this afternoon–left Hagane and Kamizuki to pick up his slack!"

"Is that so?" Iruka looked down, smiling to himself.

"You may be able to put up with his crap, but I'm not," she scowled.

"He knew you were following him," Iruka said knowingly, unable to rid himself of an unwarranted smirk. He struggled, internally, trying to get a hold of his exhilarated heart. "He waited for the opportune moment to lose you."

"Like I said…he's a jerk."

"He is."

"…And you care a great deal for him."

"I do."

"Which is why I had to get the truth from you, Iruka-sensei," Anko said, her voice down to a level Iruka thought incapable of her.

Her words confused him, however. Why did his feelings matter at all?

Anko leaned in once more, so close that the space between them was minute, and while Iruka tried pulling the reports from beneath her arms, the woman pressed into them and fixed him a serious stare.

"I'm all for fun and games, but this is the Hokage we're talking about. It's important that the people close to the Rokudaime are as committed to him as he is to them."

"Anko-san, I don't think–"

"Please, spare me your doubts," Anko mumbled, waving Iruka silent. "You may not want to believe it's the truth, but it is, and whatever this is between the two of you can be easily manipulated by an unfriendly parties. Whatever your fears or insecurities, Iruka-sensei, I need to know that these faults won't jeopardize the safety of this village or the morale of its leader."

"Anko-san… W-what are you saying?" The words barely escaped the chunin's mouth, and his gaze couldn't quite meet Anko's hardened stare, but his fervent blush betrayed him most of all.

"I'm saying, Iruka-sensei," she backed away, slowly, standing upright, "you're a lot more powerful than ya think."

"Oh damn, did I make it? Did I make it?" At last, the jonin scrambling to fill out his report came forward, rushing up to stand beside Anko. He beamed, proudly, presenting to Iruka the crinkled and sloppy pages. "S-sorry for t-the state it's in!" he stammered.

"I-It's fine," Iruka chuckled, offering the man a reassuring grin.

He couldn't be more pleased to receive his last report for the day, just as the man before him couldn't have been more relieved to have turned it in. The jonin grazed a hand through his short, sandy-blonde hair, looking blissfully at Anko. In return, Anko glanced back, looking him up and down. She smirked.

"Thank you, Mokume-san. That'll be all."

"You heard Iruka-sensei," Anko hummed, turning, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "You're done here, Mokume-san, so how 'bout you come hang out with me and buy me a drink?"

"S-sure," Mokume-san stammered, as though he couldn't believe his luck.

"See ya later, Iruka-sensei," Anko said, leaving with Mokume-san close on her heel.

"Good night, Anko-san," Iruka smiled, waving her away.

He sighed.

He looked to his left and to his right, noting that his fellow colleagues had long since disappeared. Any moment now, a new shift would arrive to take their place. He commiserated with the evening shift, knowing well the long night that awaited them.

Anko strutted down the hall, every now and then, running a hand down the side of Mokume's arm. She turned to bat her lashes in a teasing fashion and, in return, Mokume grinned like a fool. If she was lucky, the tokubetsu jonin could easily get a few drinks out of the joker trailing behind her. Better yet, Anko imagined a relaxing night out, at the shops, with a man willing to foot the bill for however many servings of dango she dared to stuff down her gullet.

"Anko-san?"

"Mm?" The two flirting jonin stopped. "Oh," Anko said, granting the newcomer a broad smile. "What can I do for you, Yamato-san?"

Yamato cleared his throat, observing the two other jonin. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not yet," Anko purred, glancing back. "It depends on how long you hold us up."

"Right," Yamato chuckled nervously. "Did you just leave the missions room?" he asked, pointing toward the room.

"You bet," Anko winked.

"Is Iruka-sensei in there?"

"Well, it's not an imposter."

"Great," Yamato breathed. "Thanks."

"No problem."

Anko and the unknown jonin passed Yamato by, turning down the hall. He watched them go, briefly, before heading to the missions room.

It was empty now, with the exception of Iruka. The other officials had dispersed, taking the sound of their chatter and occasional laughter elsewhere. Alone now, Iruka took to the slots on the walls, making sure to go down each letter of every row to toss every report into the appropriate shelf. Not only categorized alphabetically, but the shelves were also divided by rank.

There was more ground to cover before Iruka could go home. Unlike his colleagues, most of whom shoved their piles into manila files and sent them to the records staff to sort out, Iruka made sure to send every report he received to the appropriate records department himself.

Perhaps this was why so many fellow shinobi came to him to turn in their reports, Iruka thought encouragingly, racing back and forth between categories. After all, the sooner a report made it into circulation, the faster its applicant received a new assignment. A jshinobi could wind up sitting around for weeks because their previous report landed in the wrong circulation by mistake. It could take weeks before it was all sorted out and sent to the proper department of genin, chunin, or jonin.

"Iruka-sensei?"

Iruka paused, the reports in his arm going limp. They were the last pile that needed to be sorted and filed; twenty reports, at least, and he could accomplish this task with one hand tied behind his back while blindfolded.

The chunin needn't turn to see who it was, as he knew that commanding but friendly voice. He did so, however, out of respect for the other man.

"Hello, Yamato-san," he said, smiling.

"Iruka-sensei," Yamato said again, nodding.

"What brings you to the missions room?" Iruka asked, continuing his work.

"You, actually." Iruka stopped, startled. Bold eyes stared back at him, pleasantly. "I was wondering if we could talk, if you don't mind."

"S-sure," Iruka said, surprised but not displeased by the idea. "Just let me finish up here, and you can walk out with me."

Yamato grinned. "Sounds like a plan."

 

* * *

 

By the time Kakashi and Tsuki reached the training fields, the sun had long since set, giving way to a sickly orange hue now fading into the dark purple sky. The wind blew forcefully, bending the tallest blades of grass. Kakashi kept to the trails that footsteps had long since stamped into the ground, where no grass would ever grow again.

"Mah…Remember what I said, Tsuki," Kakashi drawled, staring at the tree tops in the distance. They framed the darkening sky like crooked teeth, devouring the remnants of a bright light.

"Right," Tsuki nodded eagerly. "Go straight home and no detours."

"Correct."

"Believe me, Hokage-sama," the boy shivered. "With the way Baa-chan handles a broom, I wouldn't want to make any detours."

"That's good.”

"What about Take?"

"Mm?" Kakashi turned to look back at the sleeping boy. "What about him?"

"Well, he's gotta go home too, right?" Tsuki asked, looking to his friend. "Will you wake him up or take him home?"

Kakashi looked to Tsuki, noting the bluish tint to his skin. It was the night sky, reigning victorious over the receding sun and painting everything in cool shadows. The jonin imagined that he, with his pale skin, appeared bluish, too. He looked down and saw that the bony legs dangling from his sides were also a dark blue. It was then he realized he had no clue where Take lived and did not intend to take him wherever that may be. In Kakashi's defense, Take passing out was not something he anticipated having to deal with, something of a miscalculation on his part.

It seemed to the jonin that he'd been making quite a few miscalculations in recent days.

"Ne, do you know where he lives?" Kakashi inquired.

"I have no idea," Tsuki shrugged.

"Let's get to the main road. Take might wake, by then."

Hopefully, Take would wake. At the same time, it was important the boy get as much rest as possible. The jonin felt torn by the time it would take to find out where Take lived and his desire to return to Iruka's before Iruka did. Let Take rest or wake him up...?

"I hope there isn't anyone waiting for Take to beat him with a broom," Tsuki said, shuddering knowingly for his friend.

Konoha glistened at night, littered with specs of gold emitting from light posts and hanging lanterns. The road, too, bathed in this light, overshadowed the steep hill below, and Kakashi and Tsuki would have to climb up this grassy hill in order to reach it. For Kakashi, this was no feat but for Tsuki this would surely be a challenge. As far as the jonin was concerned, the slightly older boy had trained just as long and as hard as his younger counterpart, despite not having collapsed.

Kakashi imagined that a boy Tsuki's age would be well sustained, in body and mind, by a grandmother who fed and cared for him. He could not presume the same for Take.

"Whoa...!" Just as he expected, Tsuki stumbled back, tripping over his own missteps. Kakashi caught him by the hand and pulled him up before he could fall all the way down to the base of the hill. "Hey that was fast… Thanks, Hokage-sama."

"Don't mention it. Keep moving forward, and watch your step."

Reaching the road, Tsuki leaned over to clutch his knees. Kakashi, on the other hand, took the opportunity to scope their surroundings. It was a typical weeknight, with very few people roaming the village. There remained only proprietors lighting their shops and older villagers heading toward the marketplace. Then there were those who remained invisible, on active duty or those returning from missions. They flashed across the night sky as shadows....

...silhouetted streaks in navy green, chest-guard flak jackets.

The head against his shoulder shifted but its owner stirred no more than that.

"In which direction do you live, Tsuki?" Kakashi asked.

"That way." Tsuki pointed west. "No wait! That way." Tsuki pointed east.

"Mm. I'll walk you halfway, if that's alright…"

"Sure!"

The two turned right, with Tsuki in the lead. Despite his haggard state, the redhead maintained a level of energy Kakashi could only recall seeing in one other individual. The boy practically skipped down the road while Kakashi kept to long strides, so not to disturb the boy on his back.

"We're gonna turn left over here, Hokage-sama," Tsuki said. "I live close to the Hokage tower, ya know."

"Maybe I'll see you around, sometime, when you're not at the Academy," Kakashi said, humoring the boy.

In actuality, he was keeping his eye alert, as they roamed the streets. The jonin wanted to avoid running into villagers that might recognize him. He was pleased to find that Tsuki was taking them through the emptiest route. Perhaps the redhead was cleverer than he initially led on, Kakashi thought. Or perhaps he understood that, by living so close to the Hokage tower, the Rokudaime was bound to run into someone he knew…

"Hey, is that…? Is that Iruka-sensei?" whispered Tsuki.

Kakashi stopped in his tracks, stepping back and pulling Tsuki with him.

"It is Iruka-sensei! I knew it wa– Mpmh!"

"Shh."

Kakashi hushed the boy, wrapping a gloved hand around his loud mouth.

"I know. I saw him."

Kakashi peered beyond the bend, using the corner building to conceal Tsuki, Take, and himself.

Upon further inspection, it really was Iruka. There was no mistaking that tan skin, the turtleneck, and strategically neat ponytail; only, now the man wore a chest-guard like himself and, apparently, everyone else.

Kakashi observed from afar, pressing a curious Tsuki back with one hand. Iruka should have been heading home by now, so what was he still doing in this area of the village?

Iruka crossed the road from the other side of the block. That's when it became clear to Kakashi that he wasn't alone.

No, the jonin realized, his eye narrowing in on the almond-eyed, chin-covered, face-protected, seasonal Anbu jonin captain walking beside Iruka. It was Yamato, no mistaking, just as there was no mistaking the broad smile on Iruka's face as Yamato spoke to him. Then Iruka spoke back, words Kakashi could not decipher from this distance and in the light of a dying day. He thought quickly of using the Sharingan, when Yamato leaned in close, close to Iruka's ear, and whispered something so apparently amusing that it caused the chunin to laugh.

Iruka turned red.

"H-Hokage-sama?"

Then Yamato placed a hand against Iruka's upper arm, where it lingered, before settling on his shoulder.

Iruka smiled.

"Hokage-sama?" Tsuki hissed, looking down. He wasn't going to question it at first, but the redhead was growing nervous of the fingers stabbing him in the chest.

Kakashi turned away from the sight before him, releasing Tsuki from his hold.

"Tsuki."

"Yeah?"

"Can you manage from here?"

"Yep."

Kakashi looked to the beaming boy, smiling tightly.

"You and I did not see Iruka-sensei tonight."

"…Uh, right."

"Then go, and get some rest. I expect the same amount of energy tomorrow."

"Yes sir! I mean," Tsuki placed a finger over his lips. "Yes sir."

He looked beyond the Hokage, to Take, and frowned.

"Are you taking Take home then?" he asked.

"Yes," Kakashi lied. "Don't worry. He's safe with me."

"I know he is, sir." Tsuki nodded. "Wish me luck with Baa-chan!"

Tsuki raced down the road, passing building after closed building until, eventually, disappearing around the next block.

Kakashi watched him go, standing alone on that deserted intersection.

Well, there was Take, he thought, fastening his hold on the still sleeping boy. Again, he crept away from the corner and glanced down the other side of the block, only to find Yamato and Iruka gone, nowhere in sight.

 

* * *

 

"You've finally lost it, haven't you?" Pakkun grumbled.

Kakashi ignored him.

He was sitting on top of Iruka's coffee table, surrounded by his ninken. He was aware of their staring, their watching him with puzzled stares, but Kakashi paid them little mind. He busied himself with the front door, the clock on the wall that ticked in seconds passing by, and the little boy stretched out on Iruka's couch.

"So who is he?"Akino asked.

They'd been hounding him with that question since he arrived. Kakashi scoffed to himself, remembering the fear and astonishment on their faces when he came in through the door… Perhaps they were expecting someone else, like the chunin sensei who lived here. It wasn't as if he was incapable of using a door. He was trying to make a habit of it.

"Did you find him lyin' around, or somethin'?"

"What's his name?"

"Why is he so dirty?"

"Hey," Pakkun interjected, pressing a paw against the boy's chest. The small pug sat on him and, even still, Take did not stir. "I know this kid." He looked to Kakashi. "He's the one that walked the walls that one time. Isn't that right, Kakashi?"

Kakashi nodded.

"Take," he said. "He's one of Iruka's students," he told his overly curious pack. Eight tails wagged eagerly, as seven of them joined Pakkun by the couch. Guruko jumped up, throwing his paws over one end of the couch, quickly accompanied by Urushi who did the same.

"He looks beat," Guruko said, his whiskered face sullen.

"Beat?" Urushi growled. "He looks beaten up! Kakashi, what the hell did ya do to this kid?"

"Ne…" Kakashi frowned. "I didn't do anything to him. He did this to himself."

Urushi glared at the man, skeptic. "What does that even mean?"

"Hey boss, what are you gonna do when Iruka gets home?" Bull asked, his heavy brow turning upwards. Kakashi reached over, scratching the big burly dog behind the ears.

"There's not much to do. Is there?" he replied.

"I guess not," Bull shrugged.

Bisuke paced the length of the couch, all the while sniffing at Take's clothes, and every time he reached Take's dangling hand, the small dog lapped it with his tongue. "So that's the smell we've been smellin'," he said, round eyes turning on the jonin. "This is who you've been spending time with. We were wonderin'."

"He needs a bath," Shiba said, running his paw down his face. He sat next to Bull, keeping a respectful distance. "I can smell him from here," the gray dog grimaced.

Uhei jumped up, in the same manner Guruko and Urushi had, sniffing at tuffs of Take's silver hair. His tail wagged eagerly as he balanced on his hind legs, roaming the boy's head with heavy breaths. "Let's wake him up," he said to Pakkun.

Pakkun gave Kakashi a look. "What do ya think, Kakashi? Should we wake him?"

Kakashi shook his head. "No. He needs rest."

Pakkun jumped down from off the couch, making sure not to dig his claws into Take's skin.

"Alright, Kakashi," he sighed, jumping into the jonin's lap. "What's going on? You've never been very forthcoming, but you always kept us in the loop." He looked to his brothers, all of whom agreed. "You've been spending a lot of time with this runt, and we want to know why. We also want to know why he's beaten up, and why you brought him here."

Kakashi's visible brow lifted as his eye grew wide, giving his interrogators some thought. All of them stared back at him, waiting for an explanation.

"I'm training him," he said, shrugging, but his ninken gave a collective gasp.

"What?" Pakkun appeared most perplex of all, though, as Kakashi recalled, Pakkun was the only one of them to know what Take was like when awake. "Why are you training him, Kakashi?"

Kakashi's eye fell on the boy, watching for a barely visible breathing pattern. He knew that, beneath the boy's baggy clothes, there existed nothing but skin and bones. Shiba was right, too. Take needed a bath. Kakashi reasoned that most of the dirt covering his body had accumulated from their training sessions, like the small rocks that fell out of Take's sandals when Kakashi tossed them by the door. Then there was dirt that simply stuck on a boy Take's age, because young boys like him were almost always dirty.

"Hey, answer my question!" Pakkun barked indignantly.

"I'm training him because he has potential, Pakkun," Kakashi answered. "Do you not recall the power that emitted from his chakra? With my tutelage, he has the opportunity to sooner control his energy and put it to good use." He smiled at the pug. "Who knows? He might graduate from the Academy early."

"Kakashi…" Pakkun growled in warning, but he didn't get a chance to say what it was he wanted to say.

The door cracking open, even just a smidgen of an inch, stopped him from voicing his opinion, stopped him from voicing the fact that he still remembered the last time Kakashi decided to take a young charge under his wing. That last time was not but a few years ago, when Team 7 was still a budding unit, when Kakashi believed he could groom a member of his team in the same way. Considering how that turned out, Pakkun couldn't help but think the troubled jonin was up to something he may end up regretting in the long run.

When the door opened, everyone looked up.

As for Pakkun, he thought it might be a good time to hide and so he jumped from Kakashi's lap to beneath the coffee table. Nothing of this scenario could end well, and leave it to his idiotic human to ruin a perfectly good evening by pulling a stunt like this.

The smile on Iruka's face was one of ease, a smile Kakashi hadn't seen in some time, which was why it was such a shame to see it go so quickly.

The grocery bag in Iruka's arm fell to the floor, followed by a shoulder bag, as he took in the sight before him. He stood, petrified, gaping at the eight dogs staring back at him with wide eyes, the jonin sitting cross-legged on his coffee table, and the little boy lying on his couch.

"Ah, Iruka," Kakashi hummed pleasantly, offering the younger man a crinkle-eyed smile. "Surprised to see me?"

"What the…" Iruka stepped back, horrified. "Take!"

Take's name was all he could utter, rushing forward without much thought for anything or anyone else. The ninken scattered, getting as far away as possible from the sure to be wrathful man. Kakashi did the same, swerving and scooting off the other end of the table.

"Take…" Iruka whispered, dropping to his knees. He hovered over the boy, running his eyes frantically over Take's exhausted form. "Take? Take, wake up." The chunin reached out, gently cupping Take's cheek.

Kakashi walked over to the door, pushing it close gently. Then he reached down, gathering up Iruka's belongings, the packed paper bag, and the contents that rolled out of it. He pushed aside a loaf of bread to drop in a can of soybeans.

"He's only sleeping," the jonin provided, tossing Iruka's work bag to the counter.

From the severe, fiery glare that promised all things unkind and unpleasant Iruka shot his way, Kakashi figured he might have made the mistake of saying anything at all.

"What did you do?"

"Eh?" Kakashi whined, with furrowed brow. "I didn't do anything." He was growing tired of being accused. Not that it seemed to matter; Iruka's attention had already returned to Take, as he pressed his hand against the boy's brow.

"Hey, Iruka," Pakkun said in greeting, bravely stepping forward. His brethren, however, stayed put, huddled together beneath the mantle. "Kakashi was just telling us that he –"

"I found Take on my way back," Kakashi cut in smoothly, keeping his gaze on the chunin and away from Pakkun's rounded stare. Still, the chunin's stare was not something to confront lightly. Kakashi steadied himself, brushing his hand through the sharp tendrils at the back of his head. "He must have gotten into quite a scuffle. Wouldn't you agree, Iruka?"

"This is not funny, Kakashi!" Iruka hissed, pushing off the floor. He put his arm beneath Take's shoulders, lifting him.

"What are you doing?" Kakashi asked.

"I'm going to take him home," Iruka said sharply, placing his other arm beneath Take's knees.

"Ma, don't do that." Iruka stopped, lowering Take back onto the couch. Take's eyelids fluttered, and a look of frustration surfaced on his brow. He remained fast asleep, still, no doubt troubled by a bad dream, Kakashi thought.

"Why shouldn't I do that?" Iruka challenged, narrowing his glare.

"Because… he should stay and eat," Kakashi argued, looking to Take.

The boy was emaciated. Kakashi was a lean man, due to his height and rapid metabolism, and whatever didn't show up in mass he made up for in muscle. Take was a nine-year-old boy, yes, but no boy his age should ever be Take's size.

"I think a bit of food might do him some good."

Iruka went back to kneeling beside the couch, worried as ever, and Kakashi couldn't blame or even taunt him for his concern. Had Kakashi not been with the boy for the last three hours, he too might have believed Take had gotten into a serious fight. The few hits Tsuki managed to land on Take showed up in black and blue marks all over Take's chin and arms, but more convincing was the pain Take had put himself through, straining the very limits of his body.

The look on Iruka's face clearly matched Kakashi's troubled thoughts. The chunin glided his fingers down Take's thin and dirty arm, and Kakashi knew then that even Iruka could see that his student was in an unhealthy state.

"He needs to eat."

"He needs to rest," Iruka chided, closing his eyes.

"He can do both here. Ne, Iruka?"

Iruka looked up at him, his eyes full of weary.

"I guess so," the chunin sighed, wiping a smudge of dirt from Take's brow. "Food…right," he whispered, rising slowly. With one hand on his waist, he looked to the ninken, rubbing the nape of his neck with the other hand. "What would you guys like to eat tonight?" he asked, his face void of all but a tired stare.

"Oh," Pakkun chuckled nervously, speaking for his pack, "we'll eat whatever you choose to make us, Iruka. Right fellas?" The pack nodded their heads generously.

"Of course!"

"There's no complaint here!"

"Anything you cook taste great, Iruka!"

"Thanks," the chunin said, flushing red.

Iruka headed towards the kitchen and, as the chunin approached, Kakashi's frown grew stronger. Iruka's easy-going nature had waned, forever eliminated from tonight. He walked with his head bowed, eyes lowered to the floor, averting his gaze from the jonin standing before him.

"Iruka."

"Yes, Kakashi?" Iruka asked, rubbing his temple, but he still wouldn't look up. He tried to pass him by, grabbing the groceries as he went, but Kakashi stopped him, taking hold of his arm. The jonin recalled that this was the same arm, the same shoulder, he saw Yamato holding earlier, and his gentle grasp grew firmer. He pulled the distracted chunin closer.

He had Iruka's attention now, even if the sadness in his eyes trumped his alertness.

"Kakashi…"

"Are you alright?"

"I-I…" If he heard it, Kakashi would not accept 'I'm fine' as an answer, because it was obvious that Iruka wasn't. The frantic look he kept sending Take's direction was proof enough that Iruka was more than distraught. "Someone has hurt my student. Of course, I'm not alright." Iruka finally managed, pulling away.

Iruka set the paper bag down, taking out the groceries and setting them on the counter top. Kakashi came into the kitchen as well, leaning up against the entrance. He was watching Iruka, his movements, but the chunin didn't seem to mind. He was too busy separating the canned goods from the vegetables, the vegetables from the bread, the bread from the dairy, and the dairy from the meat. Then he began to put everything away, taking the milk to the refrigerator.

"How was your day?" Kakashi asked, an innocent enough query. Of course, Iruka didn't respond right away. He disappeared behind the fridge door and, when he came up again, the milk was gone. "I haven't seen much of you, in the last few days. I'm starting to think you're upset about something."

"Upset?" Iruka shut the fridge. "Apart from tonight, I've been…okay." Iruka reached for the meat.

Kakashi opened one of the top cupboards and started shelving the cans. Iruka glanced back, eyeing the jonin thoughtfully, before returning to his own task.

"Thanks," he muttered, putting the cans on the top shelf.

"My pleasure, Iruka." Kakashi froze up with euphoria, turning over a tin of eggplant miso soup, already canned and ready to serve. He couldn't stop his elation, when he realized there were three cans of ready-to-boil eggplant miso soup. "Mm… Looks like you found some spare time after your shift, no?"

"No, not really," Iruka said, reaching for the beef and putting it away, "but I thought it smart to stock up on a few things. So I took a trip to the marketplace."

"…Alone?"

Iruka's hand paused on the loaf of bread.

"…Yes," the chunin replied, taking the bread and holding it with both hands. "I, uh, it's only a few items. I thought I could carry everything myself," he smiled weakly, grabbing the small, plastic bags of mushrooms, sprouts, onions, and radishes, making one trip.

Kakashi looked away, frowning.

"That's a shame," he muttered. "…I would have gone with you."

Iruka nudged the fridge door. It closed with a soft 'thud'.

"Yes, well…" Iruka scratched the bridge of his nose. "Maybe next time. In any case," Iruka reached up, opening another cupboard, "you wouldn't have been able to join me. You're supposed to be at the office, Kakashi, and to answer your first question: Yes, I am surprised to see you. You should be at work."

"Maa…I've got a few temps covering for me," the jonin shrugged.

"I bet," Iruka scoffed, shaking his head. He reached out with his other arm as well, and the sound of clanking and clattering grew. "I hope you know you shouldn't abuse your authority, no matter who ends up working for you. You owe Izumo and Kotetsu a considerable raise."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kakashi drawled, throwing the suggestion to the very back of his mind, "but I'm more concerned over your financial situation than theirs."

"I'm good right now, really, there's nothing to worry about," Iruka insisted, his voice straining. Kakashi tilted his head, looking up and down, and chuckled to himself. Iruka was standing on the balls of his feet, trying to reach whatever he was looking for. Everything, from the strong arch of Iruka's back to his frustrated lip-biting amused Kakashi.

"Would you like some assistance, Iruka?" he grinned.

"No, I… I almost got it." He was nowhere near getting it. Kakashi approached. "Damn it…"

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm, ah, I'm looking for the bigger pot. Not the big big one, but the middle one? You know, the one a little bigger than the small one–anyway, I want to make some soup, for Take. With a bit of beef, I can make some stew too. I just can't find the damn thing…" Kakashi didn't think Iruka was going to find it, at this rate. He recalled using it last, washing it, and placing it at the back of the shelf, behind a few stacks of plastic containers.

Kakashi stepped forward, hanging one hand loosely from his pocket. With the other hand, he reached up to help search the cupboard. He missed, however, or, more accurately, his hand froze when it met the warm skin of another hand.

Iruka froze, his free hand falling.

His fingers were a little coarse. It was chalk residue, Kakashi knew. He didn't need to see Iruka's hand to know what it felt like, its solid form radiating heat. He stepped forward, just a few inches more, gazing down into those eyes that knocked him back with so much emotion. He reached down, gliding his fingers down Iruka's hand, wrapping them around the chunin's wrist. The expression on Iruka's face, once the epitome of frustration and determination, riddled over with a fear Kakashi still couldn't place on any battlefield. Kakashi was not afraid, but his heart raced, much like the frantic pulse beneath his fingertips.

He leaned forward a bit more, until he could see the faint speckles adorning Iruka's cheeks and the bridge of his scarred nose. With one eye, he discerned the jagged edge there, proving that the scar was not much of a clean line but had melded seamlessly into the chunin's skin. Then he looked into those rich, brown eyes, a lukewarm but often fiery gaze, worn down with years of use. They looked tired too, slightly sunken in, if one cared to look hard enough. Well, the jonin was looking very hard, now, not knowing what else he could do but wallow in those eyes.

Iruka's blush grew fierce, as it always did, but in a manner different than ever before, and as Kakashi searched Iruka's face, his eyes, for understanding, he realized that the warmth he'd grown so accustom to had yet to pull away.

"Hnn-hn…"

Iruka jerked his hand away, hitting a few other dishware in the process. He knocked over a glass bowl, one Kakashi caught before it fell on the chunin's head.

"Thanks," Iruka shuddered, giving a familiar trying smile, but his condition troubled Kakashi. Iruka sounded as though he'd just taken on Gai in one of his thousand-mile-run challenges.

"My pleasure," Kakashi said, his tone low and heated. He too did not sound like himself.

Iruka looked beyond the gap between the cupboards and the sink, to the little boy stirring noisily in his sleep. He then glanced back at Kakashi, looking to him with anxious eyes.

Kakashi continued his search, though his eye remained fixed on Iruka. He eventually pulled a pot from the cupboard, slowly, revealing the medium-size one Iruka so greatly desired.

"I think I'll make tonight's dinner, Iruka," he hummed. "After all, you bought all the ingredients. It's only fair."

Iruka's frown fought to grow into a smile across his lips, as his eyes searched Kakashi's cautiously.

"Take care of Take," Kakashi said, not needing to hear from Iruka again to know that the chunin was more than grateful.

Iruka raced from the kitchen and Kakashi watched him go, hanging back against the entrance. The steel pot dangled loosely in his grip. Take was finally coming to, judging from his constant shifting. The jonin stepped back into the kitchen, turning on the faucet and filling the pot an inch high with water. Then he flicked one of the burners and opened the fridge, pulling out a few fresh ingredients.

"Take?" Iruka whispered, so not to disturb the waking boy. He checked the boy's forehead again, pressing the back of his hand against its warm surface, and mentally berated himself for not following his first suspicions. "He has a fever," he said aloud.

"A fever?" Kakashi stood from the fridge, mushrooms in hand.

"Yes," Iruka confirmed, brushing a few strands of hair back from Take's sweaty brow. "Uhei."

"Uh, yes?" Uhei sauntered forward, shocked, but all the ninken looked surprised and uncomfortable for some reason. Iruka reckoned they were well beyond starving by now, since he forgot to come by and refill their bowls this afternoon. He'd have to make it up to them, and hopefully the ninken treats he bought the other day would suffice.

"Uhei, would you mind pulling a few blankets from the hallway? There on the bottom shelf, so you shouldn't have to strain too far."

"No problem."

"The rest of you, if you wouldn't mind starting a warm bath, and there's an extra face towel on the rack beside the tub. Put it under a cold tap and bring it here, please?"

The ninken went to work, each of them eager to assist in some way.

Iruka returned his attention to Take, holding the boy's head in his hand. "Take, are you awake?"

"Hn-hnn," Take mumbled, turning back and forth. His eyelids opened and shuddered close, hazel eyes working to adapt themselves to the warm, golden glow of Iruka's living room. "Wh-where…?" Take swallowed hard, struggling to speak. "Where, am…"

"It's me, Iruka-sensei," Iruka said, nudging Take's shoulder. "It's Iruka, and you're here, with me, at my home."

Take blinked, slowly, everything around him coming into focus: the couch, a desk, a window, some strange creatures running about, and Iruka's hazy-looking face. "…Iruka?"

"Yep," Iruka nodded, relieved.

"…I'm at your place?" Take asked, gazing around feebly.

"Yes," Iruka said again, frowning. "Take."

"Ung."

"You have a fever," he said, stroking the boy's cheek with the back of his fingers, feeling the same sticky heat all over. "You were a bit sluggish in school today. This was why, wasn't it?"

"Hn," Take replied, although he was perfectly coherent.

"Take," Iruka sighed, shaking his head. "Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't she stop you from coming to school?"

Kakashi stopped mid-slice, looking up from the cutting board. He'd been listening in on their barely coherent conversation and could have sworn he'd heard a distinct 'she' escape Iruka's lips. Who was she, and what was she to Take? More importantly, who was she to Iruka?"

"Sh-she…I told her, and she didn't care. She doesn't care about me and you know it, I-Iruka," the little boy whimpered.

"Okay. That's enough now…" Iruka brushed his hand down Take's cheek, lulling his eyes to close, and they did, disappearing behind twitchy eyelids. In seconds, Take was back to sleeping, unaware of the cool, damp towel being brought in and placed on his forehead.

Iruka took a seat by the couch, immovable, with his eyes never wandering far from Take's troubled face. The ninken sat around him, trying their hardest to reserve their questions for a more appropriate time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anko and Kakashi have a heart-to-heart.

"What's your position? Over."

"No change here. What's it like on your end? Over."

The Anbu leaned to the side, gaining a clear view inside the Hokage offices.

"Eh…Not much. Over," he said, sitting back. A few high-rise buildings and a perimeter of 152 meters distanced Hatake-sama and the Anbu team assigned to shadow him. They monitored him, idle in their task.

This particular Anbu, known for the weasel-like characteristics of his mask, sat stretched out on a sturdy branch. He peered through the tree's thick patches of leaves, as he often did, making sure to keep watch of Kakashi-sama's every movement.

"Doesn't look like he's trying to lose us, anytime soon. Over," he relayed to a teammate distantly positioned on a nearby rooftop. Other teammates stood generously scattered about the perimeter, also undercover.

They bided their time, adhering to the Hokage's daily routine, all the while listening to the casual talk that transmitted through their earpieces.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, Badger. The morning is young. He'll find some reason to move out. Over."

"Hai, hai…like a trip to Iruka-sensei's class? Over."

"Come mid-morning, most likely. Over."

“Guess the rumors are true then. Over."

"Was there ever a doubt in your mind? Look at the evidence. They aren't entirely accurate, though, are they? Over."

"What, the rumors? How do you mean? Over."

"Doesn't look very one-sided, in my opinion. Over…"

"Well, no one is asking for your opinion." The Anbu balked, pressing his fingers against his earpiece. The member known as Badger immediately identified the voice, having had to deal with its constant harassment for days now.

"Mitarashi-san?" There was no response, but as soon as Badger said the name, the other members heaved great sighs and irritated groans. Below their grumbles resided a rhythmic snicker. "Damn it, Mitarashi-san… Over."

"Ladies and gentlemen, instead of gossiping about your directive's personal life, why not stick to the task at hand? You're Anbu, for goodness sake. Show some restraint."

"For the last time, Mitarashi-san: stay off our frequency! Eh, Over."

Anko looked to her headset and sniffed. Nothing brightened her day better than meddling in Anbu affairs. Most of them thought so highly of themselves, as though every other operative division was somehow inferior. To think she once considered a career path in the Anbu ranks, until she came to her senses and opted against it.

After one fleeting look down to the ground below, Anko picked up her hand-held transceiver and smirked.

_'Click'_

"…Why don't you come over here and make me."

The tokubetsu jonin eagerly awaited the backlash. Anko turned and gave Badger a wave, knowing that if she could see him he could definitely see her. Where she sat, in a tree just southeast of the Hokage's office, was no distance away from Badger's position in a tree to the north.

"Mitarashi, get off our frequency, or I'll report you to the Board. Over."

Anko pressed to speak again, lifting the transceiver to her lips.

"Idle threats," she yawned, crossing her arms and turning away.

"Idle? Idle! Over," Badger hissed, keeping his voice low so to avoid further detection. It no doubt annoyed him to no end, knowing that she had discovered his position. "I'll have you written up so fast, you won't know what hit you, you annoying little bi–"

"Uh oh… Crap."

"What?"

There was commotion over com', and it caused Anko to stare skeptically at her headset. She looked up again, to see what Badger was up to, and found that the Anbu had already switched to an alternate position. She then glared at the speaker, distrusting the static silence. She didn't know whether they'd switched to hand signals or were now communicating on another frequency. To be sure, she flicked through frequencies, scowling when she wound up on the same one.

"…That was fast. Over."

Finally, Anko thought, self-satisfied.

"No kidding. Should we say something? Over."

"Nah. She deserves everything she gets. Over," Badger chuckled.

"Eh?" Anko's face screwed up in alarm.

'Click…'

"Deserves what? Who's the 'she'?"

"Hello, Anko-san."

"Ack!" Anko clutched the transceiver to her chest and jumped to her feet. Hatake Kakashi's head suddenly appeared from among the leaves, his silver tufts of hair dangling in the air. "You've got a lot of nerve, Hatake Kakashi!" she huffed, watching him drop down beside her.

"…Me?" The elite jonin drawled, rising. Kakashi looked to the walkie-talkie in Anko's hand. She yanked the headpiece from her ear and quickly pocketed the two devices. She then offered the Rokudaime a cheeky grin and a chuckle, before clearing her throat.

"Yes, well…" She straightened up. "What do you want, Kakashi-san?"

"I want to talk to you," Kakashi replied, burying his hands into his pockets.

Anko watched him approach, frowning.

"First thing's first!" she exclaimed brightly, "and riddle me this, oh mischievous one... If you're standing here, who the hell is that?"

She pointed towards the shadowy figure slouched in the Hokage's chair.

Kakashi looked to it, his shoulders slouching. "That…is a double."

"A double?" Anko repeated, incredulously, crossing her arms and pinching her brow. "How many doubles do you have?"

"I've lost count," he shrugged, "but they do come in handy."

"I bet they do. Knowing you…" Anko's voice stopped short... She eyed the Hokage suspiciously. She couldn't help but think back to that scarecrow replica of the Rokudaime her team recovered from the fields, a week back. That, too, was a double of sorts, since it was draped in the garbs of the sixth Hokage.

Her shifty-eyed stare then grew quizzical, looking Kakashi up and down. Now that she really gave it thought, it would seem that the Hokage hadn't made any plans to replace the clothes that were stolen and burned. In fact, she thought miserably, he seemed very pleased with them gone, wearing his chest guard vest instead. It didn't go over her head that, since the Hokage had started wearing his chest guard vest, every other shinobi under the sun of the Hidden Leaf had followed suit accordingly.

"That double in your office…wouldn't happen to be stuffed with straw, now would it?"

"Ne…" Kakashi rubbed the nape of his neck.

"You…didn't!" she hissed, pointing an accusing finger. "Tell me my men aren't all riled up for nothing!"

"Mitarashi-san." Kakashi's cheerful drawl vanished.

Anko gulped, refusing to meet the jonin's stern, silver stare.

"Staring isn't gonna get you very far, Kakashi-san," she chuckled, her voice shaking with uneasiness.

"Anko-san…" Kakashi paused, approaching slowly. "…what did you mean, when you said Iruka-sensei had feelings for me?"

Anko froze, taken aback.

"Nope," she managed to say, shaking her head. "No, no, no."

"Is there a problem, Anko-san?"

"No problem," Anko replied, tightly, "because I'm not getting in the middle of this."

Anko jumped down from the tree and strutted away, but she knew Hatake Kakashi would only follow her. He did, as she expected, his every step a daunting thud to her ears.

"No means no, Kakashi-san," she sighed, holding her head high. "You'd think you'd have learned that by now, with all the time you spend with him." Anko couldn't help but smirk.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" Kakashi hummed. "However, 'no' is not an answer or an option, Anko-san."

"Oh?" Anko snorted, raising her brow.

"No…because I have questions, and you seem to have a sufficient answer for all of them," Kakashi stated thinly.

"What makes you say that?" she groaned, eyeing the road ahead. There were plenty of other shinobi out this morning, running around the grounds, heading to their stations… Going to work. Anko glanced back, to the Hokage tower, and then to the man following behind her, and she grimaced.

The Infamous Copy Nin showed an unmatched flair for avoiding his duties.

Any excuse would do, apparently.

"You had more than enough answers for Iruka-sensei," Kakashi added, looking to the sky.

Anko stopped to stare at the Hokage, thoughtfully this time, noting how the overcast made him look paler than usual. "Do you really still call him Iruka-sensei?"

"That's his name," Kakashi replied.

"That's not what I asked you," Anko said, shaking her head. "How do you expect me to answer your questions if you can't even answer one of mine?"

She waited, expectantly.

"…I call him Iruka now."

Anko's smirk grew.

"Just Iruka?"

"…That's his name."

She couldn't agree more.

They walked on in momentary silence. Anko felt a prickly feeling at the nape of her neck, as if Kakashi hadn't stopped staring at her with that piercing gaze of his, the one waiting for her to cave in and divulge anything and everything she possibly could.

'It's not going to work,' was her mental mantra. It was bad enough the jonin had obviously heard her conversation with Iruka.

"I'm not surprised," Anko mumbled, rolling her eyes. She practically shouted out the particulars, true, but for Iruka, not for the insufferable prat following her, and she refused to turn around and use that same knowledge to satiate Kakashi's obvious curiosity.

With a deep breath she turned and stopped, addressing that expected gleam in Kakashi's half-lidded gaze.

Kakashi looked surprised, but Anko doubted that he was.

"What was that, Anko-san?"

"Kakashi-san," she huffed, "you think I can answer your questions but, really, I can't. For once, in my life, I'm keeping my trap shut."

“I commend you, for your effort, but it won't last."

"Oh, really?"

"You're unwilling to talk, but that doesn't make you unable to or even capable to resist asking my questions. Like the other day," Kakashi said merrily, his droning voice a torment to Anko's ears, "when you answered questions that were never asked to begin with."

"That was different," she said, avoiding that daunting, one-eyed stare at all cost. "I was giving a pep-talk, of sorts."

"I wasn't aware the two of you were friends."

"Is that a question or a statement?" Anko scoffed, shaking her head. "I took an interest in him, after the Chunin Exams."

"You don't say?" Kakashi hummed.

"Don't make a big deal of it," Anko growled. "I just thought he was…different. You know no one really wants to proctor for the Exams. Most of us couldn't be bothered, so when some no-name chunin sensei storms into my office and begs; no, demands that he notify a team, I'm naturally gonna be stumped. I thought he was a joke, to be honest…"

"…Iruka is not a joke."

Anko stared at Kakashi, captivated by the defensiveness in the man's brow.

"You're right," she uttered, unnerved. "He's not a joke, Kakashi-san, but I didn't know that back then," she continued. "After that, I thought to investigate, stalk him, and let's just say I didn't have to follow you to know where he lived. I had made him my new pet-project long before you even showed up."

"I hate to think of what your previous pet-projects were."

"They were nothing like Iruka-sensei…that's for damn sure," Anko grumbled. "It may be hard to believe, but that man is more like me than even he's willing to admit."

"I do find that hard to believe."

"Ya see?"

Anko and Kakashi passed by the hospital, where the traffic was comparatively slower. A few medic-nin stood by the front gate, no doubt on their breaks, staring back at Anko and the more than recognizable man walking their way. Anko despised the unwanted attention, but the jonin walking beside her seemed unfazed by the gawking stares.

"I see you've grown used to all the staring. I bet if you wore your robes, you'd get a lot more looks," she winked.

Kakashi said nothing, and the two fell into another bout of silence. Eventually, the stares of hospital workers disappeared, the stigma of sick, injured, and dying patients faded away, and Anko remained determined, fixing her eyes on the road ahead, to keep her thoughts to herself. Both Hokage and tokubetsu jonin cleared the block, where Kakashi broached the very subject Anko was trying very hard to not even think about, let alone talk about.

"Consider this a meeting of sorts…" Kakashi turned on her, stopping her in her tracks. "This is a meeting similar to your meeting with Iruka-sensei, where plenty of information was disclosed."

"Back to Iruka-sensei already, are we?"

"Anko-san…"

"Alright! Yeesh!" Anko growled, gritting her teeth, and she snapped at him, "What the hell do you want from me, Kakashi-san?"

"Answers…I want to know what you think. That's all," he shrugged.

"Oh… You want to know what I think?" she mocked, looking the taller man up and down. "Believe me, Kakashi-san...you don't want to know what I think."

"Ne…I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

"You didn't ask."

"I'm asking now, then."

"What is this to you, anyway?" she asked.

"Mm?" Kakashi's brow arched, confusion settled on his face, but Anko wouldn't buy it. There was no one more clever, more complex and mysterious, and yet less sincere than the man standing before her.

"Please…like you don't know what I'm talking about. Are you asking me because you really want to know, or are you asking me out of some need to reaffirm everything you already know? Pestering me because you're serious about this or because this beats doing work? Are you looking for some amusement, is that it? After all, anyone that's ever seen you turn in a report knows how much you enjoy tormenting the guy. But this isn't a game, Kakashi-san, and you shouldn't treat it as such—"

Kakashi reached out, clasping Anko's shoulder with a tight grip.

"I know it's not a game," the jonin said sternly. He let go, slowly. Anko looked down, to where the pressure of Kakashi's fingers left an imprint on her trench coat. "Tell me, Anko-san. I would really like to know."

The tokubetsu jonin stared at Kakashi, hesitant to go on. She searched his face, looking for certainty and finding the task impossible. There was no reading beyond Hatake Kakashi's cool facade. There was just a blank, bored expression. There was sternness, no doubt, but all other hints of emotion remained hidden, and she doubted Kakashi even needed a mask to hide them this well.

Still, if she was to go on, she had to put her faith in something.

"Fine," she sighed, at last, her shoulders sinking. "Fine," she huffed again, holding her head. "Here I go again, making promises I knew I couldn't possibly keep…" Anko glared at Kakashi, annoyed. "You really want to know what I think."

"Do tell."

"I think…" Anko crossed her arms and looked away. "I think that you and Iruka-sensei…" She looked back again, scowling. "Well, isn't it obvious?"

"If it were obvious, Anko-san, I wouldn't have asked you."

"To put it simply," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I mean, it's become second nature to you… the way you act around each other, to the point where it hasn't even occurred to you… Oh, for the love of— you're freakin' attracted to each other!" she finally barked, throwing her hands into the air. "There! Is that not plain enough for you?"

Kakashi's eye went wide.

"Oh."

"Yeah… oh." Anko rolled her eyes. "I didn't have to spell it out for Iruka-sensei," she huffed, crossing her arms, "but he acts like such a prude. It's fun to watch him turn red. Did you get that, Hokage-sama?" Anko sauntered forward, her index finger swirling in mid-air. She stared him dead center, square in his masked face. "You want him bad. You can deny it, and I'll be the first person to throw down the proof. I know you heard what I told Iruka. I've followed the two of you, and you're absolutely inseparable. Your gaze never travels very far, when you're with him, and you hover over him, like the obliviously love-sick puppy you are."

Anko ran out of breath, so she stopped to take one. Unbeknownst to her, she had grown giddy, advancing on the increasingly discomforted Rokudaime with a broad and creepy grin. She approached, licking her lips, pleased by the bead of sweat on Kakashi's brow.

"I almost forgot the hospital is equipped with a psyche ward," Kakashi chuckled pleasantly, backing away.

"What's wrong, Kakashi-san?" Anko asked innocently. "I thought you wanted to know what I thought. Too much for you, I guess," she teased.

"No…That's what I thought you meant," Kakashi remarked just as pleasantly, stroking his chin.

Anko stared at him, eyes filled with fury.

"Is there something wrong, Anko-san?"

"Something wrong?" she growled. "If you knew that's what I meant, then why did you drag it out of me? Why are you pestering me?"

"Ma, I believe it is you who has been pestering me, Anko-san," Kakashi answered dryly. Anko eyed the man angrily, but as he bounced on the balls of his feet, she couldn't help but let that anger fade. "Consider this payback, for spying on our affairs. Besides, I believe I said that's what I thought you meant. There was no guarantee."

"Well, whatever…" Anko coughed, backing away. "Even you can't be so incredibly thick. I'd hate to call you my leader and that be the case…"

"Iruka-sensei."

Anko groaned, slapping a hand over her face. "He's going to kill me…"

"Mm, most certainly."

She glared at Kakashi, with unbridled malaise and misery. "Gee. Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he said coolly. "I wouldn't worry too much, Anko-san." Kakashi stepped closer, offering the woman an encouraging smile. "Iruka-sensei is a very forgiving person." He looked to the sky. "There have been times when I too have overstepped his boundaries. I know that now."

"What are you smiling about?" Anko scowled, mentally keeping note of the sudden warmth in the man's tone. She was absolutely stumped by how this man could go so long without knowing how unbelievably smitten he was over the chunin sensei. "Seriously, does destroying an already dysfunctional friendship amuse you so much?"

“I am amused, but not for the reason you speak of," Kakashi began. He stepped back, pressing himself against the high fence that surrounded the hospital. He looked to Anko, a laidback expression naturally gracing his features. She frowned.

It wasn't fair, Anko believed, for someone as maladjusted as Hatake Kakashi to be so alluring, appealing, and…cool looking. Gai-sensei's sonnets of youth manifested in the glory that was his 'Eternal Rival' did very little justice, to Anko's disdain. Kakashi pressed his back against the fence, crossed his legs, and shrugged his hands into the depths of his pockets, and he was an instant catch. Not even her constant staring seemed to disturb him.

"You seem to be taking this well."

"Was I supposed to take it differently?" Kakashi frowned, his eye scanning the open grounds. "Is that what Iruka-sensei believes? I should take the news anything less than well? He has been avoiding me, if you hadn't noticed."

"Of course," Anko lied. In actuality, she hadn't noticed at all. When she wasn't tracking Kakashi (or trying to), she was taking care of other official duties. Granted, she'd already learned, some years ago, just how evasive Iruka could be. Anko dare say that he was even shiftier than Kakashi, with unpredictability and unexpectedness being his greatest strengths. "Is that why you're smiling, because he's avoiding you?" Anko gave Kakashi a funny look, joining him against the fence. "That's hardly amusing, Kakashi-san."

"Maa," he drawled, looking to her. "I guess you're right. Iruka-sensei avoiding me is not very amusing. However, you taking me for a simpleton is pretty funny. Ne, Anko-san?" he hummed. Anko grimaced, feeling the weight of her body sink just a few inches. "I didn't make chunin at age six or Anbu at fourteen because I'm slow or 'thick', as you so delicately put it…"

"I get it, I get," Anko whined, tapping her head against the fence. "You're not an idiot."

"I'm not a fool."

"I told Iruka-sensei you were bound to notice something, but I didn't know how much." Anko cursed, berating herself, and she looked to Kakashi, frowning. "I should have come to you first."

"Perhaps."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Kakashi went quiet, temporarily closed off from the woman. The significance of this moment was not lost to Anko, who had always known the jonin beside her as a social recluse. Kakashi rarely interacted with others, unless absolutely necessary. It had always been that way. So when he finally decided to show some real interest in someone, how could a tracker such as she not notice the change?

Perhaps the significance was not lost on Kakashi, either. He wasn't an idiot, after all, and Anko was foolish forever thinking that he was.

Whenever in doubt, though, she could always look back on this midday, to the deep contemplation in Kakashi's brow alone. Anko didn't know what Kakashi was thinking, and she didn't think she wanted to know. But these thoughts, whatever they were, caused his jaw to grow tense and his face to morph into solid stone. He might as well have been a statue, as far as she was concerned. Anko watched the lump in Kakashi's throat bob every so often, a good indicator as any that he was, indeed, a living, breathing human being.

"I've come to know Iruka-sensei as my friend, Anko-san," Kakashi murmured, "and he's a good friend, a real friend. Real friends are hard to keep."

Kakashi pushed off the fence and walked away, leaving Anko to stand in astonishment.

"Pleasant meeting as always, Anko-san," the Rokudaime breathed over his back.

"Hey," Anko bolted from the fence, her body moving faster than her mind or mouth could readily manage. "Where d-do you think you're going?"

Kakashi raised one gloved hand from his pocket but didn't turn back.

"I have other business to attend to at this time."

"Pfft, as if!" she sneered, stepping forward. "Couldn't even care to properly dismiss me, could you?"

"Maa…You're dismissed."

"Not so fast, Kakashi-sama," she called out.

Kakashi stopped in his tracks, and Anko stared at the back of his head with some strange sense of satisfaction. She couldn't really explain why she couldn't let him leave just yet. She was stalling him, for time, but from what she couldn't say. Anko did know one thing for certain, however, and that was the fact that Hatake Kakashi never attended to business at the drop of a hitai-ate. Not if he could help it.

"Since you're here," Anko began boldly, "we should discuss a matter that's important to the safety of this village; some unfinished business, if you will."

Kakashi turned and approached her, his head hanging low. His pensive stare was no more, and all traces of consternation had forever disappeared from his silver brow.

"Your men," he said.

"Yes," Anko nodded, her voice growing soft. "My men. They obeyed your orders. You told us to wait and, with the exception of reconnaissance and surveillance, we have yet to respond to the threat our subject in question poses on Konohagakure."

Kakashi stepped closer, until he could no doubt smell the sweet scent of maple sugar lingering on her clothes. Anko absolutely loved that smell. Apart from coating the delectably syrupy substance on her favorite treat, the scent itself made for a great fragrance. That's why she must have imagined the short-lived scowl flashing across the visible part of Kakashi's face. After all, who didn't like the smell of sweets?

"What's our next plan of action?" she asked.

Kakashi didn't miss a beat, keeping his voice low and his head even lower. If there was anyone in Konoha who knew the importance of discretion, it would be the Hokage.

"Have four-man cells stationed at every checkpoint surrounding Konoha. I want a squad of twenty positioned on the outskirts: east, west, and south. That's five for every direction posed for vulnerability, so designate the fourth squad as a back-up team."

"S-sure," Anko blinked, taken by the speed of the Hokage's plan.

To think she believed the jerk had forgotten all about the threat of Yakushi Kabuto…of course, he hadn't. Again, Anko mentally berated herself. From this day forward, she swore never to underestimate the cocky bastard ever again.

"My teams have gathered intel, Kakashi-san. From this information, we've gained fairly dependable knowledge of where the enemy's been hiding, as well as any potential resting spots and decoy camps."

"Good," Kakashi said firmly. "I want every possibility supervised, from here on end. Until I give an order saying otherwise, teams of three will surveillance each one."

"Yes, sir."

"Have two medic teams assembled, as well. When the time comes, they will be deployed in whatever way is deemed necessary."

"Got it." Anko mentally made a note of it. Then a fleeting thought occurred to her. What would they tell these potential teams, who did not yet know the weight of their impending assignment? "Questions will be asked, Kakashi-san."

"When the time comes…let them wonder," he remarked, looking away. "Team captains should address this as a drill or some unusual changes in security protocol, but under no circumstance is the purpose of this mission to be known by anyone other than the department leads of security and interrogation. I expect you and Ibiki-san to lead the operation."

"Yes, sir." Anko gave a curt bow. She straightened up, only to find both of Kakashi's hands visible, in a familiar hand seal formation. "Not so fast!" Anko quickly pulled his fingers apart.

"Really?" Kakashi frowned, his half-lidded eye drooping. "Must I always properly dismiss you?"

"Don't pull that disappearing act bull crap on me, Hatake Kakashi! I want to know where you're going!" she snapped, her right foot tapping angrily.

"I already told you," Kakashi said, glancing away. "I have other business to attend to. Don't follow me, or the impending consequences will be dire." He turned to leave again but, this time, Anko pinched the sleeve of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger. Kakashi sprung back, staring at the offending fingers in annoyance. He mumbled in warning, "Anko-san…"

"Kakashi… wait." Anko let him go, after she was certain that he wouldn't pull a runner. To her relief, he didn't try to leave. Not that it would have been very difficult to track him down. She had a good idea of where he was heading. "Hear me out, for a second at least."

"I'm listening," Kakashi replied.

"It's about Iruka-sensei," she started slowly.

"Ne…I won't tell him what you've told me, if that's your concern. You'll continue to follow me, I'll continue to evade you, and we'll act as though we never even spo—"

"I lied."

The look on Kakashi's face was, as always, indiscernible, but the tokubetsu jonin sensed an air of anxiety overcoming him. It was only a few minutes ago that the outspoken jonin was functioning on auto-pilot, rifling through a series of operative positions like a list of grocery items, but now his lingering presence had grown weighted, and his eye bore into her more daringly.

"What about," he said in a tone Anko didn't like all that much.

"I didn't lie to you," she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I lied to him. I told him," she paused, a short laugh escaping her throat. She looked to Kakashi, chuckling. "I told him it was my duty to involve myself in this, to know the truth, for the safety of this village. I actually told him that. Crazy, right?"

Kakashi offered her a puzzled stare.

Anko sighed, "I guess I'm just under this insane impression that, were something to go wrong between the two of you, you wouldn't know what to do with yourself," she laughed.

"I'm sure it was a valid concern, at the time," Kakashi said steadily, eyeing the shorter woman with new-found uncertainty. "I assure you that's not the case, Anko-san. I am an experienced jonin and the leader of this village. I've never found it difficult to separate my duty to Konoha with my personal life. Personal woes will never cripple me."

"That's not true, and you know it," Anko sneered.

"Anko-san—"

"You said Iruka-sensei was a forgiving person, but you also said that there were times when you've overstepped his boundaries. What did that feel like? When you crossed the line and caused him pain and, without even knowing he had, he found a way to get back at you…what was the result of that? How did that make you feel?"

There it was, darkening Kakashi's features, and there was no mistaking the look of fear in the eyes of a soldier—the eye of a soldier, in this case. It was fleeting, Anko knew, but a ruthless emotion that's strength came only from its ability to weaken the spirit. The tokubetsu jonin was no stranger to that weakness and knew well its everlasting effects.

"I get it. You lose him and you lose your friend, and that's a scary thought. If you step forward and commit yourself to this, it's even more devastating."

"I can handle this."

"No disrespect, Kakashi-san, but I don't think you can," she said. "I don't think Iruka-sensei could either, but I lied. I told him that I needed to know the truth to protect you and the well-being of this village, but it's him I'm really trying to protect."

"That's very altruistic of you."

"I'm serious, Kakashi-san." Anko inched closer, a prominent frown on her face. "This isn't some scene ripped from the pages of an Icha Icha… It's easier to think hypothetically of a reality you've kept at arm's length for so long."

"I'm not—"

"I know," Anko groaned, "you're not an ignoramus. That makes it even more inexcusable, how blurred the lines are between the two of you. I refuse to stand by and watch you take for granted a chance that our kind is rarely given."

Anko exhaled a deep breath.

"Mm... Are you by any chance finished talking?" Kakashi asked, in a bored tone.

Anko glared at him.

"One more thing," she growled, "and this is very important, so pay attention." Anko cautioned the man with a pointed finger. "If you make this step, Kakashi-san, you have to be willing to commit to it…to him. Something like this doesn't just happen. This has been going on for longer than you know, so don't fuck it up…" Anko stepped away, giving the Hokage space to take in her words. She'd now seen the jonin's mind at work, the tensing of his jaw and his stone-like features. More overwhelming than anything was his never tiring stare, still boring into her in that intimidating way. "Damn you, Kakashi-san… I'm trying to help you."

"…Your assistance is much appreciated." Kakashi finally blinked, his eye revealing to Anko the vaguest expression of gratitude. "I'm going to leave now. Do you mind?"

"To visit Iruka-sensei," she said.

"…" Kakashi's nod was subtle.

"Good luck." Anko attempted to smile, but the nervousness she felt over the situation had her praying the Hokage wouldn't mess things up too much.

"Inform Ibiki-san of the operation, assemble the teams, but do not follow me." The jonin clasped his hands together, his half-lidded eye offering one last glance. "That's an order." Anko watched the smoke and swirling leaves of the shunshin no jutsu, until its user disappeared from sight.

"You're welcome!" she shouted out, even though she knew Kakashi was already long gone and nowhere within earshot.

In that moment, two workers just had to pass by. They shot her looks of bemusement as they went. That's just what Anko needed, she thought bitterly: people thinking she was a loony, gibbering to herself.

"Damn, stupid, jonin bastard," she grumbled, sulking away. "Can't even properly thank a person…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take awakes in the doggy's den.

"I think he's wakin'…"

"Don't be ridiculous. His eyes are still closed."

"But his breathing's changed. Can't you tell?"

"What kind of ninken can't tell something like that?"

"Shuddap. It's too damn early to detect something like that."

"Sure it is, Urushi."

"Well, you all got your paws on him—trying to suffocate him, or something?"

"Shh…He's waking!"

Take winced, the sound of heavy breathing reaching his ears. The light of morning soon followed, assaulting the rest of his senses. His eyelids fluttered, aiding him in his gradual adjustment to the sight before him. Eight snouts hovered over him, panting with excitement. He struggled to make sense of it, focusing on where he was and why. He felt he knew these dogs, for some reason, even if names were lost to their slobbery-tongued faces.

"Wha…?" He groaned, lifting his hands to rub his eyes. His arms felt weak, however, and an acute discomfort accompanied every move he made. He recoiled through his attempts to pull himself up.

"Hold on there, youngster."

Take strained to lift his head, whimpering in pain. There, on his stomach, sat a pug that was vaguely familiar to him. It had been watching him struggle the entire time, with the laziest of stares on its button face.

"Yo," it said, at last, lifting a paw. "My name is Pakkun. Do you remember me?"

Take finally propped himself up on both elbows and, with groggy eyes, looked the dog up and down. "I do…I do remember you," he croaked. "You're the Hokage's dog."

"I'm his ninken," Pakkun corrected grumpily.

Take stared at him blankly. "You're still a dog," he said.

Pakkun's half-lidded eyes narrowed. "What a charming little boy you are. I could just eat you up."

"Pakkun!" Guruko jumped up, sitting on his hind legs. "Don't hog the attention. Introduce us!"

"Ugh," Pakkun rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Pakkun jumped from the couch, making sure not to drag the covers along with him.

Take's eyes wandered from the pug to the dogs now grouped together, sitting around a coffee table. The little boy rubbed his eyes again, still unable to believe what he was seeing.

There were eight, in total: a golden-brown one wearing sunglasses and a slim hound with body tape wrapped around the length of its neck. Sitting in front of him was a smaller dog with brown-tipped ears and rings around its eyes. Beside it sat the overly excited looking one—a golden-yellow dog with dark whiskers etched across its face. Beside it sat a large black bulldog and another dog with spiky white hair on its head. A pale dog lay stretched out in front, with a flame of brownish-grey fluff on the tip-top of its head.

Lastly, there was the pug.

"Meet the gang," Pakkun said, pointing a paw at each one. "This here's Akino, Uhei, Bisuke, Guruko, Bull, Urushi, and Shiba. Gang, this is Hamamoto Take, one of Iruka's students." He jumped back on the couch, climbing into Take's lap. "They already know who you are, though," he explained. "I'm just making introductions."

"Nice to formally meet ya, Take!" Guruko smiled, scampering forward. He gave Take a light tap with his claw. The others did the same, coming around to give various nods, licks, and rapid tail wags in greeting. Take watched them come and go, but his mind remained a hazy cloud of confusion. That's when he realized he was lying on a cushy brown couch and draped in thick blue blankets. He eyed the surrounding room and could have sworn he'd seen this place before; in some distant dream, where everything was bathed in a warm yellow glow.

"It's not every day we meet a student of Iruka's, except for Team 7, but I don't think they count. They were Kakashi's students, when we met 'em," said the pale dog, Shiba. Take ignored the animal, focused on his own thoughts. He was determined to figure out where he was and why…

'Wait…Kakashi's students? Kakashi?' Take's mind stumbled on the name that fell from the dog's lips. 'Kakashi as in Hatake Kakashi? The Hokage, Kakashi?'

Surely…this wasn't the Hokage's house, was it?

Take looked around again, soaking in the room's features. All the furniture looked made of old, hand-carved wood. Long bookshelves stood against the room's perimeter, cluttered with volumes and tools. There were pictures and scrolls hanging on the walls, but his mind was still too dazed to take in the images.

It didn't make sense.

Take always imagined that a Kage's home would be one of…magnificence. This place was warm, welcoming; too pleasant and plain to be the home of a Kage, especially one like that pervy scarecrow.

"They count," drifted in the voice of another dog, the one named Uhei. "Well, Naruto-kun definitely counts." Take could have sworn he heard that name before. "In any case, Kakashi was more of a trainer than a teacher, wasn't he? Does he even count?"

"Of course he counts!" Pakkun growled, glaring at Uhei.

"W-wait a second…" Take's broken voice caught the dogs' attention, and they cornered him with big round eyes. "Are you telling me that…all of you are the Hokage's dogs?"

"Ninken," Pakkun corrected again, glowering, "and talk about slow to come around. You were something else, in Iruka's class. I thought a kid like you would be a little faster than that," he snorted, staring at him skeptically.

Take glared and sneered, "So what is this, the pervy scarecrow's house or something?"

"Pervy scarecrow?" Bull repeated, amused.

"Ne, I've never heard that one before," Bisuke said, scrunching his face.

"Neither have I," Akino frowned.

Pakkun looked to the others, shaking his head.

"I guess a bit of clarification couldn't hurt," he said, clearing his throat. The ninken sat, all ears, as Take fixed the pug a bitter stare. "Take's one of Iruka-sensei's sharpest students. He is not, however, a very nice kid."

"Hey!"

"He gave Kakashi a hard time, even charged at him with a kunai."

"Are you kiddin' me!" Guruko roared, horrified.

"What?" Urushi growled, glaring at Take. "What the hell is wrong with you, boy?"

"Boy?" Take scowled.

"Now, now…let's not get caught up in this," Pakkun continued, holding up a paw. "I think we can safely assume the matter has been settled, since Kakashi's been training this kid."

"How do you know about that?" Take asked, frowning.

"Kakashi tells us everything…eventually," Pakkun said, rolling his eyes.

"Why did you attack Kakashi, Take?" asked the dog wearing sunglasses.

"I don't know," Take answered back. "I just did."

"See what I mean?" Pakkun gave a rough laugh. "Very unpleasant, isn't he?"

"I'm not unpleasant!" Take snapped back. "Maybe I don't wanna answer questions from stupid dogs."

"Wow." Bisuke's droopy eyes blinked. "He really is unpleasant."

"Prickly too," Shiba hummed.

"You could say that. Short-tempered, ain't he?" Urushi snickered. "Almost like someone else, when he was just a small brat."

"I'm not a brat!" Take shouted, the loudness ringing in his ears. He grew dizzy and swayed, before falling against the couch. "Ugh," he groaned, his head thudding against the armrest.

"Okay, okay…cut it out," Pakkun intervened, pressing a paw over Take's chest. "Remember what Iruka said. He's still sick."

"Iruka…? Iruka-sensei?" Take rubbed his brow, looking down at the pug. "Y-you know Iruka?"

"Know him?" Pakkun paused, staring at his paw. "Why, I'm his favorite."

"I don't know about that," Urushi grumbled.

"Iruka-sensei takes care of us," he explained, shooting Urushi a glare. "He's our human."

Take looked at him skeptically. "I thought you said the Hokage was your human."

"Both Kakashi and Iruka are our humans. It's a time-share, of sorts," Pakkun smiled, a sea of large grins chorusing behind him. "But enough of that; let's get you back under these covers." Pakkun reached down, pulling the blankets up with his teeth.

Take didn't have the strength to argue. He settled against the couch, as the pug pulled blanket after blanket back over his shoulders. He sighed, frowning up at the ceiling. He wasn't used to this. A typical morning for him began with climbing from his cot before the break of dawn, so he could take care of the little ones before they started crying. After which, he'd creep into the kitchen and try to sneak some food, before that miserable woman woke up.

"Where am I?" he said aloud.

"Mm?" Pakkun's head popped into view. "Ya mean you don't remember?"

"Remember what?"

"This is Iruka-sensei's place," Pakkun answered.

"Iruka-sensei's? You mean…" Take searched the room again, seeing traces of his sensei everywhere he looked now. Nothing was more telling than the student art taped on the walls, some of which read 'For Iruka-sensei' right across the top. "How did I get here?"

"Kakashi brought you," Pakkun said. "You do remember training with him, don't ya?" Take nodded. "Well… He said you passed out."

"I don't remember…" Take began but fell short. The memories were flooding back to him. There he was, near the wheat fields and that deserted compound, with Tsuki and the Hokage. They'd been training for hours. Then he remembered heading home and thinking he'd die of agony, if he had to listen to those idiots make small talk, before… "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Pakkun grumbled, scratching his ear. "Kakashi said you were exhausted, so he brought you here. It was a good thing he did, because it was Iruka who figured out you have a fever."

"I do?" Take placed a hand over his head, but he couldn't tell one way or another. He felt only the clamminess of his fingers and the cold sweat on his brow.

"You were going in and out, all night. I guess that's why you don't remember much, but Iruka and Kakashi stayed up taking care of you. We helped, of course," the pug smirked. "When Kakashi made you soup, we helped Iruka give you a bath."

"A bath?" Take sniffed his shoulders, curiously. "I took a bath?"

"Yeah," Shiba voiced, sniffing the air. "Notice how you don't smell?"

Take lifted the blankets, noticing a different assortment of colors clinging to his body. He was wearing a beige shirt and shorts that didn't hang off of him like his clothes did. "Where are my clothes?" he asked.

"They're being used to clean the gutters," Shiba said brightly.

"No they are not," Uhei scolded. "Iruka hand washed them. They're hanging over the tub."

Take lowered the covers, still frowning.

"What's wrong, youngster?"

"…Where's Iruka-sensei?"

"Well," Pakkun began, "it's a school day. Though he did say he'd come by to check up on you."

"When will that be?"

Eight pair of ears perked up, at the distant sound of jingling keys.

"I'd say right now," Pakkun replied, offering the boy a small grin.

With a squeak, the front door opened, revealing none other than Iruka himself. An overwhelming sense of relief quickly took hold of Take, and he would have pushed himself up again if not for the unusually strong paw holding him down.

"Iruka," he breathed.

The door clicked closed.

Iruka looked up from the lock, a broad grin on his face.

"You're awake," he smiled. Iruka pocketed his keys and approached, dropping his bag on the coffee table.

"You're back!" Guruko beamed.

"I said I would be," he said, reaching down to pat the dog's head. He patted and scratched a few more heads, skirting by before taking a seat on the edge of the couch.

"Iruka," Take repeated, grinning. It meant everything for him to see his favorite person.

"You were still sleeping, when I left," Iruka explained, "and I didn't have the heart to wake you, so I asked the ninken to watch over you."

Take looked to the dogs again, some of whom crowded around Iruka's feet.

"Yes, yes, glad to see you too," he chuckled, looking down. "I've only been gone a couple of hours… You can't be that happy to see me?" he sighed, reaching down to ruffle some more fur. The ninken continued to swarm him persistently. Iruka spotted Pakkun and picked him up, dangling the pug from his underarms. "Pakkun, what's going on?"

"We're hungry," Pakkun responded begrudgingly, "and put me down. People already think I'm some plush toy."

"Sorry." Iruka sat him down in his lap, his brow furrowing. "I don't understand. Why are you hungry? I fed you all this morning. Don't tell me you ate it all already...!"

"But you didn't feed us, Iruka," Pakkun frowned. "Our bowls have been empty since last night."

"I didn't?" Iruka asked pitifully. Eight dogs shook their head 'no'. Iruka leaned back to look into what Take assumed was the kitchen. "You're right," he said, shakily. He looked to Pakkun again, horrified. "Why didn't you guys say anything?"

"Well, none of us noticed until you left, and we know you didn't do it on purpose. You've been a bit distracted lately…"

"I can't believe I didn't," Iruka closed his eyes and shook his head. He looked to Pakkun again, pleading, "Just give me a couple of minutes and I promise I'll treat you all to a good meal."

That certainly got their tails wagging.

"Don't worry, Iruka. You can take all the time you need. We're ninken, after all." Pakkun winked. "Isn't that right, guys?"

"You bet!"

"Of course."

"Okay, but not too much longer…"

Pakkun rolled his eyes and Iruka laughed.

"Alright then," Iruka said, "and thanks, again, for watching Take."

"Anytime." Pakkun jumped from Iruka's lap, turning around with a smug smile. He looked to his fellow ninken. "How 'bout we go rest up in Iruka's room?" he suggested, prancing away. The seven other dogs took the hint, following Pakkun out of the room.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Akino said, scampering past him.

"I need my beauty sleep," Bull said, jokingly.

"Out of my way, slowpokes." Urushi raced by.

"Aww…but I wanna eat now," Guruko whined.

One by one, the ninken disappeared down the hall, leaving only Pakkun. He lingered by the doorway, giving Iruka and Take one last look. "We'll come back, when there's food," he said, before running off as well.

"I see you've met the ninken," Iruka smiled, scratching the bridge of his nose. "I think they've grown a bit co-dependent, but they mean well." Take watched them leave, intrigued. That pug said something about resting in Iruka's room…

This really was Iruka's home.

"I'm at your place?"

"How are you feeling?" Iruka reached out, covering Take's forehead with the palm of his hand.

"I'm f-fine," Take replied. Iruka was warm to the touch, even when he double-checked with the back of his hand. Then Iruka went about readjusting the covers, making sure to tuck all of Take underneath the woolly blankets. The boy found that he couldn't stop smiling, staring at that worn hitai-ate around his sensei's head.

"Are you sure?" Iruka looked up, fretful, but Take reassured him with a firm nod.

"Yeah. I'm sure." Iruka was such a worrier, but the concern in his eyes always made Take feel better.

"You have a fever."

"Am I still sick?" he asked, those hazy memories slowly returning to him. He remembered bits of last night. He remembered Iruka telling him he had a fever, which he still couldn't believe. He'd spent all of yesterday feeling ill and hadn't thought much of it, but he could have been puking nonstop and it wouldn't have mattered, because no ailment in the world would ever stop that vile woman from kicking him out of that awful place every single morning.

"Yes," Iruka sighed, his face crinkled with worry. "You're still a little warm." The chunin scooted forward and reached out again, pressing his hand against the side of Take's face. "I'll have to take your temperature again, just to be sure," he smiled sadly, brushing his thumb against Take's cheek.

Take stared into those kind brown eyes before closing his own, tilting his head into Iruka's caress. It reminded him of what it was like to have someone take care of him when he fell ill, someone like a parent. 

Take could remember falling ill, when he was very young, and his mother would sit with him and tend to him in the same way.

"Take…what happened last night?" Iruka asked softly, pulling his hand away.

It left Take's cheek feeling cold.

"W-what do you mean?" he mumbled, opening his eyes. "I…I don't really remember much," he frowned, staring sheepishly up at the man. He didn't like lying to Iruka, not that he was very good at it. His Academy sensei always gave him that unconvinced look: a thin-lipped frown, just like the one he wore now.

"Take…"

"What? I really don't remember, okay?" he shot back, pulling himself up. The covers that Iruka-sensei had him wrapped in fell to his waist again, revealing the clothes that didn't belong to him. They must have belonged to Iruka.

He ignored the man's expectant stare, as he struggled to sit up. When Iruka came to his aid, however, keeping a ginger hold on his arms, Take did not protest.

"Do you remember Kakashi-sama bringing you here, last night?" Iruka asked.

Take shook his head.

"He said he found you, in the streets…that you must have gotten into a fight. Is that true?"

Take stared at him, overwhelmed with amazement. Then he glared, enraged, but not at Iruka. Never Iruka.

No… He was angry about having to lie again; having to go along with whatever ridiculous story the Hokage had fed to his sensei. After all, he didn't want Iruka growing suspicious of what was really going on. Worst of all, he hated having to cover for the man responsible for his now weakened state. Take knew it was well worth it, but that didn't stop his body from aching all over.

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. "I got into a fight, but it was nothing." He added, smirking to his self, "I fought back and beat them up pretty good."

"You idiot!"

"Ow!" Take could now add throbbing head trauma to his symptoms. He rubbed the back of his head, where Iruka had smacked him, and growled. Iruka didn't look or sound too pleased himself, his notorious temper radiating from beneath a deeply distraught glare. "What was that for?" Take shot back, guiltily.

"You shouldn't be fighting anyone!" the man roared. "Now, who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Take muttered.

"Nonsense, Take," Iruka scolded, holding his waist with tight fists. "These individuals, whoever they are, are not your enemies, and they shouldn't be fighting you anymore than you should be fighting them. They're Leaf villagers, just like you."

"I'm not a Leaf villager," Take snapped.

"You don't still believe that," Iruka whispered, his face growing soft.

Take didn't respond.

"You shouldn't say things like that, Take. People care for you here, in Konoha, and when you care for someone they become a member of your family." The little boy crossed his arms, trying his best to ignore the disappointment he sensed coming from Iruka. "I'm sure there are people you have learned to care for as well. That makes you a Leaf villager all the same."

"Tch." Take rolled his eyes, relenting. "Only you, Iruka," he admitted, staring down at his arms.

"I'm sure there are others," Iruka said, a small smile forming against his lips, "but I guess I'll have to do for now." Iruka ran a hand through Take's rowdy mane, and Take sulked under the gentle tousling. "I care about you too, Take. That makes you a Leaf villager."

"You care about everyone," he said moodily.

"Well," Iruka paused, thoughtfully. "I care for everyone, in the sense that I would never want a fellow villager to come to harm. You must remember that the people of Konoha are but an extension of us. The Will of Fire gives us the strength to stand with our comrades, not against them. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"You're a brave boy, Take, and you're always trying to prove yourself," Iruka continued, tucking a few strands of silver behind Take's ear, "but fighting for the sake of fighting is no way to express your feelings."

"I got it," the boy huffed. He was being lectured for something that he didn't do; for an event that never took place, and it was all that blasted Hokage's fault.

Iruka looked on, grimly, examining Take's face. He lifted his chin and turned his head, tracing the cuts and bruises on his jaw.

"I'm fine," Take whined, swatting the chunin's hand away.

"Well, you don't look fine. You're all bruised up," Iruka scoffed, ignoring the boy's objections. He lifted Take's bangs, running fingers over the deep gash on Take's forehead. "I'll need to put more ointment on these scrapes, when I get back."

"When you get back?" Take asked incredulously. "You mean, you're not staying?"

"I can't," Iruka frowned. "I have a class to teach. You know that."

"When will you be back?"

"Not until late," Iruka sighed, "Which is why the ninken will stay with you. They've agreed to keep you company, and they'll make sure you eat and get plenty of sleep."

"But they can't even feed themselves!"

"They can," Iruka said, brushing Take's bangs back down. "They're just being needy."

"But—!"

"I even took the liberty of bringing you your class assignments."

"What? Why?"

"Well, you have to keep up with the class," Iruka argued, chuckling.

"I'm already ahead of the class," Take pointed out.

"Then you'll stay ahead of the class." Iruka winked. That knowledge didn't make Take feel any better. He could care less about schoolwork or grades. He doubted the Hokage would hold this absence against him, since he knew he was sick. Take only cared about one thing now and that was spending time with his favorite person.

"Speaking of…" Iruka reached for his bag. "Tsuki hasn't stopped asking about you. I told him you were ill, and he gave me this." Iruka pulled out a wooden pencil and handed it to Take, and the little boy stared at it with disgust. Tsuki's pencil was in terrible shape: chipped in numerous places, with a dull tip, a well-worn eraser head, and a considerable amount of bite marks. "Tsuki wants you to use it today, and he hopes you feel better."

"Great," Take sneered.

"Don't be mean," Iruka scolded, smiling. "You're his friend, and he misses you."

"…I wish my friend didn't eat his own writing utensils," Take frowned. Despite his disapproval, a part of him drew delight from the gift. For a fleeting moment, his heart had skipped a beat. The idiot redhead had been thoughtful enough to give him something he could use, even if it was a chewed up pencil. "Tell him…thanks," he said, staring fondly at the small gesture.

"I will," Iruka beamed, "and feel free to use my desk," Iruka pointed behind his head, "and any of the writing utensils in the top drawer." Iruka pulled out a folder, setting it on the coffee table.

"Thanks, Iruka," Take said, eyeing the folder with disdain. What kid in their right mind would want to do schoolwork when they're out sick? Iruka gave his shoulder an encouraging squeeze, before rising from the couch. The boy watched him walk into the kitchen, his stomach grumbling at the mere thought of food.

"I prepared some meals for you but you can eat whatever you like. There's plenty of fresh fruit in the fridge. I'll put the soup back on the stove at a low heat, so you won't have to fiddle with the temperature." Take's mouth watered. Food was a novelty, where he lived. The kitchens were always bare or barred from them. What food Take managed to find, he usually gave to the younger kids who weren't as strong as he was. He could go days without eating, since they couldn't.

Iruka exited the kitchen, holding a cup in one hand and a tray in the other. He handed Take the cup and set the tray on the coffee table.

"Have some orange juice. It'll help you feel better," he said. "I left water boiling on the stove, this morning, to make you some hot cereal. It's very hot, so let it cool for a bit."

Take started on the drink with great enthusiasm, taking one gulp after the other. He looked over the rim, watching Iruka sit himself on the edge of the couch again. His sensei watched him, his warm smile a comfort to the little boy. For Take could never forget that he ate his best meals in Iruka's company. The chunin often stopped by, with care packages. What Take cherished most were those times when Iruka took him out to eat at a ramen shop, just the two of them.

Take finished with one last gulp.

"Don't forget to eat, Take. You need to eat and drink lots of fluids, today." Iruka took the empty cup from him.

"What about the dogs?" Take asked between sips. "Aren't you gonna feed them?"

"Their bowls are filled now," Iruka shrugged playfully. "They'll smell it, eventually…"

That was an understatement, Take thought. Not a second later, a chorus of barks and a rumble of paws filled the room. Take looked for dogs and saw only blurs travel from the hall to the kitchen. He blinked, amazed at their speed.

"That's why they call themselves ninken," Iruka chuckled. "They're no ordinary dogs." They crowded the kitchen floor, climbing over one another, their jowls unhinging to inhale the food Iruka had placed in their bowls.

"Phanks, Imruka!" Pakkun called out, his face no doubt stuffed with food.

"Don't mention it," Iruka said over his shoulder. "I also bought some treats I thought you'd all like. They're on a plate, on the counter."

"Iruka, you're the best!" Guruko cried.

"Hey!"

"Watch it!"

"Eat your own food, damn it."

"Iruka-sensei."

"Mm?"

Take looked beyond his sensei, to the wagging tails and hind legs moving in and out of the kitchen. They were voracious and energetic, their playful banter filling the room with ease.

"Where is…Kakashi-sama?" he asked.

Iruka's eyes grew wide.

"I mean, I don't really care," he quickly added. "I-I was just wondering why he left his dogs with you."

"Mn-ken!"

Iruka smiled. "He doesn't leave them with me. They sort of…live here, I guess."

"Does the Hokage?" he asked.

"Does the Hokage what?"

Take clarified, "Does he live here, too?"

"N-no!" Iruka stuttered, and Take thought he saw a hint of red spread across his sensei's face. "He comes by, every now and then. That's all," he answered, glancing away.

Take frowned. "…Is he coming back?"

"D-do you want him to?"

"…I don't know," Take mumbled, looking down. He wanted to say 'No' and hated that he couldn't. He had to lie to Iruka, because of that old pervy scarecrow. He could barely move, because of their training sessions. As far as Take was concerned, he had every right to despise the Hokage and want nothing more to do with him.

He didn't much like the fact that the pervy man seemed so close to Iruka, either.

"Take?" Iruka placed a tentative hand on his shoulder and stared at him, questioningly, waiting for a response. Take felt encouraged by the gentle circles being rubbed up and down his arm, but the uncertainty in Iruka's eyes made it difficult to answer. Why, he wondered, did Iruka look so…nervous?

"It's because of the Hokage that I'm here, right?" he asked, slowly.

"Yes," Iruka nodded, "and he insisted that you stay."

"…He made me soup?"

"He did." Iruka gave a hesitant smile. "He helped me take care of you."

"Then…I want him to come back," Take grumbled, shrugging. "I have to thank him, right?"

"You don't have to," Iruka offered, reaching up to pat his head, "but it would be a very nice thing to do."

"Iruka-sensei?"

"Yes?"

"Do I have to go back to that place?" Take didn't like calling it his home. He didn't have a home, as far as he was concerned. When Iruka shook his head, it was as though a weight had been lifted from his chest. The idea of having to go back when it was so peaceful here, with Iruka…

"Not today," Iruka said softly. "Today, you're not going anywhere. I contacted Jaakumi-san." Take stared up at the man, horrified. "Don't worry," Iruka added. "She demanded I take you back, but I quickly informed her that the Rokudaime himself insisted that you stay here, with me."

Something swelled within Take's chest.

"After that, there was no argument."

"Tch, she doesn't care about me," Take sneered, and it was sickening to hear that she tried to appear as though she did, yet again. "I'm just a number."

"She's still your guardian, Take, and that gives her every right to know where you are."

"I still don't understand why I can't stay with you."

Iruka frowned. Take looked down, his face growing red. He studied his clean fingertips, the clothes on his back, and the blankets on his legs, looking anywhere but at his sensei. For Take felt Iruka's intense stare, the lingering guilt for doing everything that he could and yet failing to take Take away from that place. The little boy had once scolded and told himself that he'd never bring it up again, but it was hard not to. This was Iruka-sensei's home, and he was here, where he should have been all along.

He didn't understand why Iruka hadn't fought harder.

"Take…" Take felt a burning behind his eyes. "We've been over this," he whispered.

Take refused to look up.

"Hey, Iruka. You're gonna be late."

"…R-right. Thanks, Pakkun," Take heard him say. Only when Iruka turned away did he look up, wiping angrily at his eyes. He followed his sensei's gaze, to the clock on the wall. The time was such that, were he at the Academy, he would be the only student waiting for the return bell to ring and save him from having to interact with the other students. "I'm sorry, Take. I have to—"

"Go. I know." Take looked down again, angrily.

"Let me get you some water…" Iruka said, moving into the kitchen. Take sat, head bowed, listening to Iruka's movements. He could still hear the ninken, though their noisiness had died down. Iruka stepped into the kitchen and turned on a faucet, when Take made the mistake of looking up. His watery, hazel eyes met with calm, brown ones, and he quickly looked away.

He felt ill, physically ill, to where the aches he'd been feeling returned tenfold, accompanied by a dull pain beneath his rib cage.

"Here," Iruka returned, handing him the same cup. "There's water in the fridge, but you'll benefit more from room temperature water." Take took the cup and downed the contents, before holding the cup out for Iruka to take.

Iruka placed the cup on the table and sat back down, to Take's surprise.

"I thought you had to leave," he said bitterly.

"I do," Iruka said, "but I need to know you're going to be okay."

"I'm okay," Take snapped.

"No you're not."

"I said I was, so I am—!" Take froze, as two arms circled over his shoulders. Iruka pulled Take close, welcoming him into a hug. Take didn't hesitate to respond in kind, wrapping his arms around the chunin. He snapped his eyes shut and returned the embrace, burying his face into Iruka's shoulder.

"It's alright to be upset," Iruka said, causing Take to tighten his hold. "Your situation is a difficult one. I…I'm sorry I haven't been able to do more," he whispered, pulling away. Reluctantly, Take let him go. Iruka was all smiles, despite the sadness in his eyes, so Take forced himself to smile, too. 

It hurt, though.

Iruka stood.

"…You'll find everything you need here. If not, ask Pakkun or one of the others and they'll go out and get you something. I don't want you leaving for any reason. Is that clear, Take?"

"Yes."

"The bathroom's down the hall and to the right. I keep board games and activities by the mantle. You have your school assignments, so I expect them to be done when I get back."

"Yes, Iruka-sensei," Take rolled his eyes.

"Yo, Iruka!" Pakkun jumped up, appearing on the other end of the couch. "Tick tock—you're gonna be late, sensei!" He frowned at the chunin.

"Right," Iruka said again, but he looked to Take, hesitantly. "I'll see you tonight," he said.

"I'll be here," Take nodded, adamantly. "I promise."

"Go!" Pakkun growled.

With a hand seal, Iruka disappeared. Take stared into space, the empty air where Iruka once stood, missing the man already. He glanced at Pakkun, briefly, before climbing from under the covers. His bare feet met the soft carpet, as he reached for his tray of food.

"Iruka-sensei's on a schedule, you know," the pug said. Take ignored him. "Hey, I'm talking to you."

It was hot cereal, just as Iruka had mentioned. There was a spoon and a napkin on the tray, so Take picked up the spoon to swirl around the contents. He saw apple slices and bits of cinnamon and couldn't wait to dig in.

"You're thicker than I thought."

He watched the heat swirl before his eyes, as he scooped up a spoonful, and blew, chancing the temperature to take a taste. All the while, a four-legged figure moved in the corner of his eye.

"What are you eating?" Pakkun asked, pressing two paws up against his leg.

"Food," he answered, stiffly.

"Food, he says," Pakkun grumbled mockingly. "What kind of food, youngster."

"Wouldn't you like to know…"

"Not really."

Take growled.

"I'm interested in what you and Iruka were talkin' about. We all are, actually." Take stared at the dog, dropping the spoon into his bowl. It wasn't just the pug now staring at him with great intrigue, but the other dogs as well. They swarmed the other end of the couch, watching him with eerie fascination. Take scowled, as the idea of spending all day with the likes of the Hokage's ninken made him feel sick all over again.

Pakkun pulled a doggy treat from his hitai-ate, taking a loud, crunchy bite. "You just got a whole lot more interesting, Hamamoto Take."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one step forward and two steps back, for Kakashi and Iruka.

Iruka's class was a lifeless room, during lunch. The students were gone, out to eat or play, leaving a slew of disorderly desks in their wake.

Kakashi saw a few of them now, making use of the Academy's open grounds. Other students from other classes had joined the ones Kakashi recognized to partake in their own free time. The jonin could relate, having once been a student himself, but not in this way. His younger self trained, for one thing, using lunchtime as an excuse to practice technique he'd seen from the White Fang. He never once stepped near a playground when he attended the Academy.

If not picking flowers from school gardens or eating lunches on school benches, that's where most of Iruka's kids spent their time: dangling from the jungle gym. Kakashi had already made his reservations, some time ago, but had spent a good portion of the last ten minutes questioning their intelligence. The musing became less of a pastime and more of a task, when a boy with short brown hair slipped from the monkey bars, fell on his head, and, without a second's hesitation, climbed back on top of the monkey bars, only to slip and fall again.

Even Tsuki had his moment, when the redhead jumped from a swing and landed on a fellow classmate.

The jonin looked to the door, the sound of rapid footsteps catching his attention. It swung open, revealing Iruka in a state the jonin had not expected. The younger man kept his head bowed low, not once looking to his surroundings; otherwise, he would have seen the esteemed jonin sitting across the room. He shuffled in, with a turbulent air, slamming the door behind him. The classroom shook, and even Kakashi had to brace himself against a fresh wave of anger.

He kept quiet, watching as Iruka leaned against the door and pressed his forehead against its solid surface. His right hand reached up beside him, stretching the lengths of his fingers until the chunin's palm lay flat against the wood. Still, the jonin kept to his silence. He sensed something troubling; saw something was wrong, to an extent that had deeply displeased the chunin. Kakashi had seen Iruka upset on plenty occasions, frequently being the source of said disturbance, but he'd never seen the chunin under such a coping mechanism.

It was something exclusive, something so personal that Kakashi felt he was intruding on Iruka's privacy. He wouldn't leave, however. Kakashi remained where he was, driven by the firm desire to stay.

Iruka exhaled, turning, his back instantly hitting the wall and his hands clutching at its pale blue surface. Spotting the stealthy jonin had startled him, to where his eyes fluttered and his breath hitched with shock.

"Yo," Kakashi said, waving a hand in the air.

The chunin unclenched his fists.

"Kakashi," he breathed, staring the man down with wide eyes. "A head's up would be nice," he said, pushing off the wall.

"A head's up?" The jonin repeated, astounded by the mere concept. "Where would that leave the element of surprise?"

"Dying, in a ditch somewhere…hopefully," the chunin replied darkly, rubbing at his temple.

Kakashi jumped from the windowsill and approached. "Lunch is almost over," he said. "You've been gone, this whole time."

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Iruka snatched up a pile and slapped a folder back against his desk. "Care to point out anything else that's glaringly obvious?" he snapped, tossing folders and papers from one side of his desk to the other. Kakashi looked on, keeping his distance. The jonin had seen Iruka organize his desk before, arranging documents with systematic effectiveness, and knew that this simply wasn't the case.

He stood by, obediently, so to avoid saying or doing anything that might provoke the chunin's wrath.

Iruka's movements slowed.

"I'm sorry, Kakashi." He dropped the pile of papers in his hand, saving them from a fate of disarray. "I don't mean to be rude," he sighed, shaking his head. He quickly went about reorganizing his desk, righting toppled piles of paperwork.

"Where were you?" Kakashi asked, stepping closer.

Iruka brushed a hand down the side of his neck, tugging at his uniform, and Kakashi followed the movement with a patient gaze.

"We had a meeting," Iruka replied, rubbing at his shoulder.

"Ma, Iruka…These meetings always leave you tense."

"That's an understatement," Iruka scoffed. "I think faculty meetings were invented for the sole purpose of pissing me off." He gave the Hokage a miserable grin.

"Only you, Iruka?"

"Well…" Iruka exhaled, looking down. Kakashi kept his eye on him, noting the chunin's unfocused stare. Iruka was obviously distressed, still the same chunin who had wilted against his classroom door… He stepped closer, grasping the back of Iruka's chair with a gloved grip, stopping an arm's length from former as he committed to memory a sight that would never leave him. "Kakashi?"

"Yes, Iruka?" Iruka looked to him, the faintest hint of crimson creeping across his face. Kakashi smiled, relieved to see such a familiar sight. For him, making Iruka blush had always been a pleasurable pastime. The jonin dare say he missed it the most, in the days Iruka spent avoiding him. In addition to yearning for his companionship, he longed to see the chunin's nuanced nature.

"Can I ask you a question?" Iruka asked with uncertainty, his voice just above a whisper.

"I'm not going anywhere," Kakashi hummed. "What would you like to know?" Iruka looked away, searching for the right words, but Kakashi waited patiently. He could wait for however long it would take the frazzled chunin to collect his thoughts.

"I-It's a bit of a strange question…"

"I'm all for strange." Bemused brown eyes locked in on him. "Look who you're talking to, Iruka," Kakashi chuckled.

"Heh," Iruka uttered, managing a short laugh himself. "I guess you're right."

"So…" Kakashi picked up a file that was teetering on the edge of the desk and handed it to Iruka. "What's the question?"

"Thanks," Iruka muttered, taking the file. His small smile grew when Kakashi repeated the task, returning to him more folders and scattered pieces of paper. "Kakashi…what do you remember of your Academy sensei?"

The question had the jonin somewhat paused, for a moment, but he quickly resumed helping Iruka reorganize his desk.

"That's a strange question, Iruka."

"You said you're all for strange," Iruka scowled.

"Yes," Kakashi gave another low chuckle, eyeing the chunin. "I guess you're right." He handed Iruka another stack of papers being held together by a flimsy paperclip. "To answer your question, I'm afraid I don't remember much. As you know, my enrollment here was relatively short and I kept to myself, for the most part." His brow furrowed. "Why do you ask?"

Kakashi passed on another few pieces of paper, only to realize that there was no hand to receive them.

"Mm?" His half-lidded eye gazed upward, staring at the quiet chunin. "Iruka…"

"So that's it then," Iruka stated tightly, his hands dropping like dead weights. He gave the jonin a disbelieving stare, one that morphed into a fiery glare faster than Kakashi could figure out what he'd said or done wrong to deserve the following outburst. "No appreciation, no thought? That person who took an oath to invest in your education becomes just another nameless face, no more important than the enemies you strike down on the battlefield?"

"Maa," Kakashi frowned. "That's not what I sai—"

"What was their name?" Iruka hissed, but Kakashi believed the plea in his eyes spoke louder than the venom in his voice.

"Motou Hideki," Kakashi replied, his cool stare locking with Iruka's heated gaze. "…His name was Motou Hideki."

"Was? You mean—"

"He was a good man, a good teacher, who was greatly admired by his students," he finished. Iruka's anger faltered, an inner grief returning to him. The jonin held out the same few pieces of paper, strangely pained when the chunin reached out to take them. "I believe I misspoke, Iruka, and should have clarified that what I recall of this man is nothing short of an observation rather than a familiarity," he continued, placing a few scattered pens into Iruka's utensil cup.

"No," Iruka shook his head, "I assumed…"

"I know, which you—" Kakashi stopped short, correcting his approach. A part of him thought to point out the error in Iruka's ways, to correct the naïve chunin who allowed his emotions and the inner turmoil he no doubt felt to cloud his mind. The jonin instead gave pause, again, aware that there was some validity in the assumption. Over the years, Kakashi had met many people, could place a name to all of them, and that was the extent of his knowledge. A name. But Iruka wanted more than a name and would always want to know more than just a name. It simply was another part of his nature.

A crinkled smile formed in Kakashi's eye, as he handed over another folder.

"You were right to assume, Iruka." Iruka's eyes grew wide, with shock. "I'm rarely inclined to familiarize myself with the people around me. You've picked up on that, by now."

"Well, you've familiarized yourself with me," Iruka said, slowly, looking away, "You know me, and I know you. I think..."

"You and I are different." Kakashi pierced Iruka with a relentless stare, but the chunin kept his head down, his gaze fixed on the manila file in his hands. The jonin took it from him, gently, setting it aside with the rest. Kakashi earned himself the stare he wished to see, coupled with the flustered expression he'd come to admire. "I can tell you only what I remember of Motou-sensei, Iruka, just like you asked."

Iruka gave a hesitant nod, watching the jonin with weary eyes.

"Motou-sensei," Kakashi began, "was well liked, among my peers. As for myself, I appreciated him for being fair. He didn't treat me any differently, because of who my father was… At my graduation, he said only that it was an honor to have taught such a talented child, if only for a short while." Kakashi placed the last scattered pieces of paper into a pile, unsure of whether any of them belonged together or not. Not that it mattered, given Iruka's current state. It amused the jonin to know that, were he to have thrown his own work space into such a cluttered mess, the chunin would have never let him hear the end of it. "I discovered that he died, a few years ago, completing a B-Class mission. He was sixty."

Iruka looked to him, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Were you anyone else, I would apologize for your loss but…did it feel like a loss to you, Kakashi?" he asked.

"It's difficult to say," Kakashi said, thoughtfully. "At some point, you grow numb, and the loss is nothing more than a common occurrence. I do grieve for my former sensei, in the same way I grieve for all those comrades who fall before their time. My time." He pressed his fingertips against the pile, sliding it across the desk. "Does that answer your question?"

"It does," Iruka frowned. "It's an academically sound response."

"What about you, Iruka?" the jonin hummed.

"What about me?" Iruka reiterated, with blatant apprehension.

"What do you remember of your sensei?"

"Plenty," Iruka said ardently, but the fervor went missing from his eyes. "Yamuta Osake," he sulked. "I remember the day he came right up to me and said that I was a troubled case, unfit to be a shinobi."

"How wrong you've proven him."

"He wrote me off, Kakashi," the chunin muttered weakly, "said I wasn't worth the effort, and he convinced me that I wasn't."

"What changed?" Kakashi stepped closer.

"The Third," Iruka said quickly, a sad smile on his face. "One day, the Sandaime approached me and everything changed. I was so broken, after…" The chunin closed his eyes, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Sarutobi-sama was there for me, encouraging me to do what I thought I couldn't. That's all it takes," he laughed, pitifully. "One person! It takes one person to care… Why can't they see that?"

"…I believe I'm beginning to see." Kakashi placed a hand against Iruka's right shoulder, ignoring the former's fervent blush and quizzical stare. "The meeting," he went on to say, kneading the skin beneath his fingertips.

"Y-yes," Iruka gave a weighted nod. "The majority of the meeting was spent arguing for higher wage, among other things." Kakashi smiled when Iruka rolled his eyes. "When you attend these conferences, you go in expecting petty arguments and bureaucratic nonsense," he huffed, "but I never believed that, for one moment, my fellow colleagues would turn against me."

"Mm?" Kakashi froze, his brow growing stern. "They turned against you?"

"Well," Iruka scratched the bridge of his nose nervously. "Maybe that's a severe way of putting it, but it felt that way." He looked to the jonin once more. "A few of the other instructors singled me out to criticize my teaching methods."

"Which are…?"

"They say I'm too invested," Iruka frowned, "that I shouldn't put so much effort into my students because, years from now, they won't even remember my name. Apparently, I should focus on the children who show the highest potential and give them more attention, because early graduations make the village look good."

Kakashi didn't know what to say. He knew what he wanted to say and easily so. His colleagues' argument was a fair position to take, by his deduction. The truth of the matter was that a nation was only as great as its military might, with every shinobi village vying for supremacy. Nothing established supremacy better than the succession of each new generation, which became the sole reason for holding the Chunin Exams in earnest of international participation. On the surface, it gave the great five nations an opportunity to show off their fighters, their land and commercial enterprises, though, at the heart of it, the event was merely a game of exhibition and intimidation: to show other nations what the future had to offer, and nothing proved a greater threat than young, talented fighters.

The younger the fighter the greater the threat and, with nothing but years to hone and perfect their deadly skills, eligible youths were quite advantageous.

The jonin sighed, giving Iruka's arm a gentle squeeze. The truth was too severe for the chunin to accept, if he did not already know. Kakashi doubted that was the case, however. Not even Iruka could be so naïve, evident by the defiance in his eyes. It took one lazy stare for him to gauge what probably took place during that most crucial part of the meeting. Either Iruka defended himself, tooth and nail, blind to reason, or he kept his thoughts to himself, silently fuming, all the while aware of this harsh reality.

One look and Kakashi knew.

He was coming to terms with understanding, realizing he knew more about the chunin then he initially ever imagined. He knew what Iruka thought about early graduations, knew that if he ever suggested the concept with Take in mind, the chunin would fight him on every standpoint. Iruka believed in childhoods and that they existed in a shinobi world. He felt that children should live as peacefully and as innocently as they could, for as long as possible, regardless of their skills on the battleground. Kakashi realized this was the reason Iruka spoke against his nomination of Team 7, those short years ago. Iruka's close relationship to Naruto and the protectiveness he showered his students made him incapable of letting go.

Iruka was an idealist, a harmless and somewhat novel concept made solid, making for poor judgment calls in regards to national superiority.

Kakashi knew this of the chunin, and yet knowing mattered very little. He often delighted in provoking Iruka and found that, at this time, the desire to do so was lost to him. The engaging discussions and enlightening arguments he so greatly relished would not come about challenging Iruka's beliefs this instant. After all, this was less about values and more about pride, and it was clear to the jonin that Iruka's pride had taken a heavy blow this day. No, Kakashi thought. To provoke the man would only tear them apart, a fate the jonin would forever struggle to evade…

_"What did that feel like? When you crossed the line and caused him pain and, without even knowing he had, he found a way to get back at you…"_

Disputing the subject would only dishearten Iruka further, cause him pain, and Kakashi could no longer think of any position worth defending enough to justify that outcome.

The jonin could not, however, speak for those individuals responsible for dispiriting the chunin.

"…They're jealous, obviously."

He had his loyalties, and they belonged with Umino Iruka.

"Kakashi…" Iruka stared at him, a look of disbelief possessing his features.

"It's true."

"That's very kind of you to say, I think," the chunin managed, his face flushing red, "but we both know that's not the case."

"Ne, Iruka…you should give yourself more credit," Kakashi encouraged sternly. "Despite what you may think, whether you believe your colleagues capable of such resentment, the fact remains: your classes have the highest turnout rate of graduating students."

"I didn't know that," Iruka breathed, gripped with incredulity. Kakashi felt the chunin's amazement ripple through a lengthy exhale. Iruka looked to him, the gleam in his eyes a mixture of wonder and confusion. "The Academy doesn't keep record of information like that."

"The Board does," Kakashi shrugged, "and before you question my sources, I'll have you know that I've completed a fair amount of paperwork, upon your insistence."

Iruka looked away, sheepishly.

"It's understandable that they'd want to know the effectiveness of the people teaching Konoha's future. You, Iruka, and your teaching methods, are responsible for the highest percentage of students who successfully join a genin team, following graduation." Kakashi reached out, placing his other hand against Iruka's left shoulder. He smiled at the bemused chunin, wanting him to see that there was no need to doubt. "You can see now why other instructors would question your teaching method, because they're incapable of emulating what you've accomplished."

"Accomplished or not, they made their priorities very clear," Iruka frowned. "Even the administration has agreed. They'd rather see one brilliant prodigy emerge and make chunin at the age of six," he looked to the jonin pointedly, "than see an entire class succeed at a reasonable pace. In any case…" Iruka's tired gaze fell, staring at Kakashi's vest. "Thank you, Kakashi."

"For what?" the jonin asked.

"For not throwing this back in my face," the chunin explained. "I know you don't think much about my capability. I know you think I'm soft."

"Maa…" Kakashi rubbed his hands up and down the sides of Iruka's arms, still, trying to comfort the chunin. "You're right about that."

"You're not supposed to agree!" Iruka snapped, slapping the jonin's hands away. "Maybe I should just neglect half my class and drill the other half with constant target practice and mock battles," he scowled.

"Don't do that," Kakashi hummed. "You wouldn't be you, if you taught any differently. You'd be another instructor, another sensei with students who don't admire them. You've established your own method of discipline and have your own instructive approach, using what some see as a weakness to your greatest strength. You care a great deal about your students, Iruka. You have…a heart, remember?" Kakashi took hold of Iruka's shoulders one last time, giving the faintest caress his calloused fingers could attempt. "That should never change. As far as the Board is concerned, as far as the Hokage is concerned," his eye crinkled, "your methods are proficient. Leave the prodigy searching for private tutors to sort out."

"…I think I will," Iruka sighed, giving a slight grin. Still, Kakashi sensed a lingering distance about him, despite his best efforts.

"You're still upset about something," the jonin said, waiting for a confirmation.

"I'm just…" Iruka sighed. "I'm just worried."

"You're always worried."

"About Take," Iruka pronounced, glaring at the jonin. "Have you checked in on him?"

"I swung by," Kakashi drawled, grazing a hand through his shocking hair. Iruka bore into him with a skeptical look, but he was telling the truth. He literally swung by, sitting in a tree outside Iruka's living room window. He watched Take, for half an hour or so, only leaving when convinced the ill boy was in the competent care of his ninken. "Last I saw, he was beating Pakkun at a game of shogi."

At last, Iruka gave a genuine smile.

"Why am I not surprised?" Iruka sighed, shoulders relaxing. "When will Pakkun learn?"

"He has a one-track mind, I'm afraid," Kakashi murmured, eyeing the classroom. "Pakkun will never learn." He looked to Iruka again. "So…why are you worried?"

"Why wouldn't I be worried?" Iruka retorted. "Take has a fever. He was beaten and left unconscious!" The chunin placed a troubled hand against his face. "I should have known," he lamented weakly. "I should have seen he was sick. He was more standoffish than usual—why didn't I set him aside and ask him how he felt?" He looked to Kakashi, hopelessly. "I could have done something. I could have taken him home then, maybe, he wouldn't have wound up in some senseless street fight."

"Eh, Iruka…" Kakashi rubbed the nape of his neck, grimacing. "You're not responsible for what happens to Take outside the Academy."

"Take is my responsibility, no matter what," Iruka lashed out. Kakashi did not respond with surprise, however. He'd seen the lengths of Iruka's concern, watched him sit at Take's side while succumbing to bouts of slumber. The jonin knew Iruka cared for all of his students, but he shared a unique attachment to Take, an evident bond that nearly rivaled the relationship he shared with Naruto.

The jonin accepted that Take was special, and he admired the boy's determination, his brute power and sharp intellect. These qualities, however, were not exclusive to Take alone and, if a younger Naruto was any indication, did not make for Iruka's special people.

"I failed him, again…"

Kakashi did not understand what tied Iruka and Take together just yet.

"Do not blame yourself, Iruka." Kakashi had hoped the chunin would not dwell too long on an incident that had never occurred. To his dismay, Iruka had not only lingered on it but had taken fault for Kakashi's impromptu fabrication.

"This is one occasion where I can't be convinced, Kakashi." Iruka gripped the edge of his desk, shaking slightly. "This is just how I feel."

"Take will be fine."

"That's not the point. Even you must know that, Kakashi."

"Even me?" Kakashi's silver brow rose into his lopsided hitai-ate.

"Never mind," Iruka huffed, pushing away from his desk. He stared at the jonin, a grim look on his face. "For Take, I am that one person; I try to be, at least. I don't want him to think I've abandoned him."

Kakashi buried his hands into his pockets, his head tilting in curiosity. "I fail to see how you've abandoned him. You took him in, tended to his illness… You've been nothing short of a mother hen, since last night."

Iruka glared but said nothing to him and, for one weak moment, Kakashi thought of telling the chunin the truth. If he told the truth, Iruka would have no reason to feel guilty. The anguish in his eyes would leave him, quickly followed by the devastation that racked his frame. Then blame would quickly fall onto Kakashi where, beyond that foresight, the future was bleak, unknown and, quite possibly, nonexistent.

No.

For the purpose of self-preservation, Kakashi could not tell Iruka the truth.

If he wanted to stay in the chunin's good graces, he could not tell Iruka the truth.

…If he wanted Iruka, he could not tell Iruka this truth. Not now, at least.

Iruka stepped away, crossing his classroom.

"I'm not entirely surprised to see you, Kakashi, but I am curious as to why you're here," he said, righting a few desks. Kakashi watched him, intently, studying the chunin from head to toe.

He looked to Iruka's hair. It was as meticulous as ever, pulled back in a band wrapped three times around: no more, no less. Apart from the few strands pouring over his hitai-ate, the chunin had every single strand of hair slicked together but had failed to tame the thick tendrils cascading from his ponytail.

There was the chunin's caramel complexion, his round face, and the thin, dark eyebrows framing his temple. Iruka reached down to grab a fallen pencil, revealing the soft protrude of his nose. Iruka's ears curved, where Kakashi's pointed, and his jaw was strong but not as severe as his own. When the chunin stood, the outline of his solid form became definite beneath his uniform: the roundness of his shoulders, the lean muscle in his arms, the arch of his lower back, the firmness of his…

"Kakashi?"

"I came to see you, Iruka," Kakashi answered, the deep red in Iruka's cheeks visible from where he stood. "Am I correct in assuming it would be unusual not to see me?"

"You have a point there," Iruka hummed, tossing scratch paper into the trash bin. He looked up, giving the jonin an uncertain smile. "I-it's nice to see you, too. I hope you didn't have to wait long," he sighed, running a hand over his hair. He passed by, taking a blue folder and a box of pushpins from his desk.

"Maa, just since lunch started."

"That's almost an hour, Kakashi," the chunin chided, pinning graded papers to the large bulletin board on the wall.

"Is it?" Kakashi asked cheerfully. "I hadn't noticed."

"I certainly would have noticed," Iruka mumbled, pulling another '100 %' assignment from his file. "Then again, I wouldn't have waited that long…"

"I didn't mind waiting for you," Kakashi replied, taking a seat on the edge of Iruka's desk. "I can wait for as long as it takes, Iruka."

Iruka paused, turning. He had the folder bundled in his arms, pressed against his chest, while his small, plastic pushpin box dangled between two pinched fingertips. The expression on his face…was unclear, and Kakashi wanted to believe he could but he simply could not discern the look in his eyes. That was a first, for him. No blush, no twitch, no crinkled brow or facial indication of any sort for him study.

It caused Kakashi to wonder just what it was he expected to see. What sign was he, Copy Nin Kakashi, looking to commit to memory?

"Well, that's—"

"Yes?"

Their eyes locked. Kakashi smiled, mimicking the small grin spreading across Iruka's lips.

"I was going to say that it was nice of you to wait for me. I would have left a note, but the meeting was short-noticed. Suzume-sensei informed me of it just before lunch period started."

"Have you eaten, Iruka?" Kakashi asked.

"Well, no," the chunin shrugged. "When would I have had the time?"

"Nee…You're right," Kakashi drawled, heaving a grave sigh. "I should have stopped by Ichiraku's." He looked Iruka over, frowning. "You must be starving."

"I'm fine," Iruka said, chuckling when Kakashi's brow rose with disbelief. "Really…"

There was a knock on the door. Kakashi looked to Iruka, questioningly, but the Academy sensei simply shrugged his head.

"Come—" The door swept open before Iruka could even finish his invitation. The two men looked on, surprised in their own rights to see Lady Utatane standing at the doorframe. "Lady Utatane," Iruka stammered, standing about-face.

"Iruka-sensei," she greeted, giving a curt nod.

Iruka gave a low bow.

Then Utatane turned, her wrinkled eyes narrowing in on the idle Rokudaime. "I'm surprised to see you here, Kakashi-san."

"And I you," Kakashi remarked, resorting to his usual slouch.

"I issued a messenger who came earlier and was promptly informed that Iruka-sensei was attending a meeting. I was in the vicinity, so I thought to return myself."

"Uncommon," drifted Kakashi's deadpan tone. Iruka lifted his folder to cover his mouth, suppressing the urge to laugh with a few polite coughs.

"Indeed," Lady Utatane said, looking between the two men. With a humming sound, she reached into her robe, pulling a short scroll from her inner pocket. "I have information to pass on to you, Iruka-sensei."

"Mm?" The chunin blinked. "Information, Lady Utatane?" he asked politely. Kakashi looked to Iruka and glared, struggling to determine what annoyed him more: Utatane's presence or the fact that Iruka showed her immense respect, even after the trouble she and Mitokado had caused him.

"Yes," Utatane nodded. "Given that you are the Hokage's assistant," Kakashi threw the elder a wide-eyed stare, "this dispatch is better suited for your eyes to see. May I step in?"

"Of course." The elder approached, and Kakashi watched her walk across the room with a trained eye. Utatane held out the scroll. Iruka accepted the small piece of paper, unraveling it with his free hand. "It’s directions," he stated, looking to her, questioningly.

"Yes," the elder confirmed. "Konoha's textile district is known for manufacturing our military uniforms, civilian clothes and material goods. There resides Saki Shun, a world-renowned tailor and native to this village." She turned to Kakashi, frowning. "It was he who outfitted your Hokage robes. Upon my request, he has tailored a new set of robes, keeping you in mind."

"May I ask why?" Kakashi asked, dryly, beyond peeved.

"Tomorrow, you, the Rokudaime, will attend the first of many meetings, where a panel of your peers, the Board, a lower level representative; in this case, your assistant," her beady eyes darted toward Iruka, "and yourself will review a series of high-profile assignments. The Council has already assigned these missions to selected individuals and teams, based on the expertise necessary to complete the mission. I believe you are familiar with your task in these proceedings."

"Of course," Kakashi shrugged. "I'm a glorified mouthpiece."

"Kakashi-sama!" Iruka hissed, frowning with disapproval.

"Call it what you will, Hatake-sama, but it is the Hokage's responsibility to send these individuals off," Utatane said sternly. "They will look to you, for encouragement, and for any additional information pertaining to their mission. To fulfill this obligation, you must present yourself as the leader of this village, and that includes wearing the uniform fitted to your title."

Lady Utatane turned to Iruka, offering the chunin another curt nod. Kakashi looked to Iruka, the uncertainty in his brown eyes as he returned the gesture. The elder then returned her gaze to him, expectantly, but the jonin found he had nothing to say. He stared at her, defiantly, her words sinking into the core of his being.

"That is all that I have to say." Utatane turned to leave. "You have your instructions, Iruka-sensei. As the Hokage's assistant, I expect you to treat this task with the promptness it requires. The panel convenes tomorrow, at ten."

"Yes, Lady Utatane."

"Shun-san is aware that the Godaime's assistant has departed from Konoha and knows that it is the current Hokage, the Rokudaime's assistant who will come to retrieve the garments. He has never met you, however, and will want to see identification and your registration number, to verify that you are, indeed, Umino Iruka."

"Yes, Lady Utatane."

"Mm…" Utatane and Iruka looked to Kakashi. "Are you paranoid his design might fall into the wrong hands?" the jonin hummed humorously. "How much does Kage wear sell for?" he asked Iruka.

"I don't know," the chunin shrugged. "It's probably more than I'll make in a lifetime, most likely. Do you mean before or after they've been worn?"

"Does that make a difference?"

"You'd be surprised…"

"I expect to see you at tomorrow's assembly," Utatane stated forcefully, her shrill voice cutting into their exchange. She took hold of the door handle, as tightly as her aging strength would allow. Kakashi crinkled his eye, delighted in the displeasure on her face. "I believe I've made myself clear."

"Do I have a choice—?"

"Yes, Lady Utatane," Iruka said abruptly, bowing. "I will be sure to assist the Hokage in preparing for the meeting."

"Yes, well…" Utatane pulled the door, taking her leave. Kakashi looked on, waiting eagerly for the door to close behind her. "Oh, I almost forgot." The woman turned again, looking to Kakashi with a thin-lipped smile. "I believe congratulations are in order."

"Mm?" Kakashi perked up, watching the elder with mild suspicion. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Of all the times to be modest, Kakashi-san," Utatane chuckled, unpleasantly. "There's no point in hiding it." She looked to Iruka, smiling. "The Hokage spent this morning with one of Konoha's most beautiful and brilliant kunoichi, Mitarashi Anko. Onlookers spotted the two on a stroll near the hospital. From what I understand, it was quite the intimate affair."

Kakashi froze, the blood draining from his face as he sat a rigid stone.

"Word spreads quickly in a shinobi village, Kakashi," Utatane continued merrily. "The discovery of this union was inevitable, but you shouldn't be discouraged. You should be proud. Mitarashi-san is an exceptional shinobi, a good woman," she looked between the two men. "She will make a fine wife and partner that the people of this village can look up to."

Kakashi heard the sound of something fall behind him, the box of pushpins in Iruka's hands, falling and spilling out onto the floor.

"Good day, gentlemen."

The door shut close behind her, with an unusually crystal-clear 'click'.

Kakashi's chest fell, as he inhaled for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. His eye, frozen with dismay, remained fixed on the door, where the elder had taken her leave. He couldn't stop staring, and he refused to believe it was fear that kept him from looking anywhere else. He felt the presence of another but refused to acknowledge that said person had heard what he had just heard himself. He felt a cold wind drift in from the open window, its swooshing noise penetrating the otherwise quiet room.

He looked to Iruka, who quickly dropped to the floor. The chunin had fallen to his knees, head bowed, picking up the small, variously colored pins strewn about the tiles. The jonin stared, unnerved by Iruka's determination.

"What a grossly misconstrued account," Kakashi chuckled, rubbing the nape of his neck nervously. "People believe they saw me courting Mitarashi-san…how amusing. Wouldn't you agree, Iruka?"

Iruka didn't respond, focused on his self-appointed task.

Kakashi frowned. "I was not courting Anko."

"Clearly."

"Not that I was with her at all, mind you," Kakashi added, correcting himself. He approached the kneeling chunin, standing over him. "She followed me, and I lost her. That's all."

"I don't care."

"I'm telling you, Lady Utatane has been incorrectly informed—"

"I said I don't care, Kakashi-san," Iruka snapped, shooting the other man a cold stare. Something constricted in Kakashi's chest. The chunin returned to his task, gathering the last of the pushpins. "Class will resume, any moment now, and I have too much to do to deal with…this." Iruka looked away, pulling the box into his tight grip. "Now, please, go."

Kakashi didn't want to leave, not with the turn of events as they were. Iruka climbed to his feet, collecting the scroll and his folder as he stood, and marched to his desk. Kakashi attempted to block his path but Iruka simply brushed past him, sparing not even a glance.

"Hey," Kakashi pulled Iruka back, gripping his arm tightly. Iruka huffed but the frustrated jonin only pulled him closer, until he could feel the anger burning in the former's skin. Kakashi found that he was taken, absolutely possessed by the heat. This intense warmth had always been there, just out of his reach, where Iruka's mere presence had always been an all-encompassing sensation. Kakashi wouldn't let that feeling go, even if it struggled, wrestled against him. He could stand here for as long as it took, listening to the rapid beating of Iruka's heart, feeling the violent huffs of breath escape his lips, staring down into those fiery brown eyes, as Iruka tried weakly and failed triumphantly to pull away from him.

"Let go of me," the chunin said, but the jonin wouldn't let up. "Kakashi-sama…"

Kakashi was at a loss for words. He knew, once more, what he wanted to say. He wanted to clarify the situation, even when he knew it would make very little difference. He had angered Iruka, for reasons he couldn't possibly comprehend, and so kept quiet. He held Iruka's attention, his body, challenging the chunin with his own steely glare. He ignored the sound of children's playful laughter, as it drifted in through the window. There was no playground, no Academy or classroom...

There was only him and Iruka.

"You're to pick up my robes, this evening," Kakashi said, looking to the scroll of paper still clutched in Iruka's fist. Giving orders, he knew, was a foolish approach, especially where the irate chunin was concerned, but it was the only talent still functioning among his mental capabilities.

"I have a better idea," Iruka said, through gritted teeth. He released his fist, holding the scroll in the air. He then shoved it down Kakashi's front pocket, causing the jonin to stumble forward unexpectedly. "Why don't you pick up your own robes? Make an outing of it, since you're never doing anything you're supposed to be doing. Neglect your duties, as per usual, and take another intimate stroll. Who knows? You might run into someone willing to worship the ground you walk on—there's plenty out there!"

Kakashi's grip tightened, emitting a hiss from the chunin. Regardless, Iruka refused to stand down, challenging him with a smoldering gaze. Kakashi thought to let go, ashamed of his cruelty, but that bout of doubt went as quickly as it came.

"You are out of line, Iruka," Kakashi stated coldly. "You are my assistant and, as such, you obey the commands I give you. It is you who will do the retrieving." Then he frowned, his cold tone faltering. "Make an outing of it, yourself. Perhaps Yamato can accompany you… I'm sure the two of you will find that arrangement most agreeable."

Iruka managed to tear himself from Kakashi's grip, at long last. He stumbled away, his anger coupled with bewilderment, and he watched Kakashi, gaping in disbelief. "Are y…are you spying on me?"

"Hardly," Kakashi barked, unconvincing even to himself. "I'm just a keen observer."

The school bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

"Get out."

"…As you wish." Kakashi heard running, the rushing footsteps of students returning to their classes. He gave Iruka one last look, before turning to leave, his every step growing more definite. The jonin looked to the floor, expecting the linoleum tiles to crumble beneath his feet.

"Kakashi."

Kakashi stopped by the door.

"…Take asked about you," he heard Iruka say. He turned back slowly, intrigued. "He wants to see you," Iruka continued, crossing his arms. His eyes, however, had softened to a lukewarm stare. "He's expecting you to drop by."

"…Should I?"

"You should, for Take's sake," Iruka managed, looking anywhere but at the Hokage. "It would do you both good, I'm sure. I believe he's a lot like yourself."

"My intention is to drop by, Iruka," Kakashi drawled. "I will see him."

"I'm glad," Iruka replied, wearing the bleakest frown upon his face, "but… I hope you don't intend to stay the night." His brown eyes locked with a lazy grey one. "Come over to visit Take, but… I think it's best you return to your own place tonight."

"I understand," Kakashi said…but he didn't.

The thought of returning to his own apartment left a sinking feeling in his stomach. He thought of it now and the dusty, desolate shell it was, in comparison to Iruka's humble but welcoming abode. The jonin talked a lot more, under Iruka's roof. He found joy outside the bindings of his Icha Icha novels, laughed true laughs and smiled real smiles. He would gladly sleep with his back against the couch, listening to an annoying little brat mumble nonsense in his sleep, rather than face the emptiness that was his place.

"Can the ninken stay?" was all that he asked, however.

"Well, yes," Iruka breathed, and it was apparent to Kakashi the chunin had never intended to kick them out. "They're more than welcome to stay. It's your call…Kakashi."

The classroom door swung open for the umpteenth time that day. In came in influx of perspiring children as they raced pass the Hokage's solid form.

"Hey look! It's the Hokage!"

"Kakashi-sama! Are you teaching us another lesson?"

"Iruka-sensei has the coolest friends!"

"Keep the dogs," Kakashi said, raising his hands into a hand seal. He disappeared instantly, leaving behind a trademark residue of smoke and falling leaves.

"Whoa! Did you see that?"

"He did that at the inaugural thingy! I remember that!"

"Dogs! Did he give you dogs, Iruka-sensei?"

"Iruka-sensei?"

"Why do you look so sad, Iruka-sensei?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi goes the day alone as imminent danger looms in the distance.

Kakashi stirred from sleep, confused by how different Iruka's couch felt. A cool, thin sheet and overly starched comforter covered him, as opposed to the numerous blankets Iruka often draped over his seemingly sleeping form. Gone were the soft seat cushions beneath him and the cramped way in which he slept, replaced by a wide, firm mattress. Finally, he opened his eye and did not see the distant outline of a coffee table but instead the familiar green walls of his own apartment.

A low groan emitted from the depths of his lungs.

Kakashi woke to still silence and stale air, a spectacle of ninken and the orchestrated melody of Iruka's daily routine absent this morning. He climbed to a sitting position and the bedding fell from his shoulders, exposing his naked torso to the biting cold. He leaned forward, his muscles constricting, and ran a hand down the side of his bare face. He stroked his chin and blinked, willing the grogginess to go away, but the glow of daybreak continued to cause some disorientation. After seconds of pinching his brow and rubbing his eyelids, Kakashi turned, searching the surface of the windowsill above his headboard.

"Mm?" The jonin hummed, when he did not find what he was looking for.

He spotted his framed copy of Team 7's first and only group photo. He noted the time on his alarm clock and detected the weapons stashed within reach of his bed. He found that a film of dust coated everything in sight and that the small plant wilting against the window frame needed watering. Still, he did not find the dog tags he regularly wore around his neck. Their mysterious absence would surely disrupt his morning routine.

He frowned.

Kakashi had fought wars, battled admirable adversaries, and completed dangerous missions, all while wearing his dog tags. He faced every confrontation, with the understanding that those tags would be all that was left of him. Like any expectant soldier, he often imagined the many ways in which a retrieval team might find his body: mangled, torn apart, cut to ribbons, or burned to such a degree that he was unrecognizable. Made from the strongest, most resilient alloy the Land of Fire had to offer, however, his dog tags would survive and serve to identify him amid a red sea of nameless corpses.

Kakashi thought long and hard over where he might have left them, only to realize that he hadn't been wearing them for some time now. This troubled the jonin, because he considered them a part of him, just as intimate to his person as the Sharingan replanted in his left eye. It was illogical but true, making the task of finding them a top priority.

Where had he left them? No doubt somewhere familiar, somewhere he frequented daily, and, that being the case, certainly not here. Kakashi hadn't spent much time at his apartment. He came by, every now and then, to make quick changes or switch out the weapons in his flak jacket. He found his days more occupied now, performing his Hokage duties, answering to the Council—he'd been dodging their requests to meet like the plague—and commanding Konoha's intricate shinobi regime. Then there was Take and Tsuki, as he dedicated a good portion of his time to training the two boys.

Time management wasn't Kakashi's strongest suit, but it was necessary for him to make the attempt. Otherwise, he couldn't maneuver around the daily schedule Iruka wrote out for him so that it better suited his extra-curricular activities. By doing so, Kakashi even managed to find extra time on his hands, though he was determined to spend all of it with Iruka. Even when Iruka thought he could avoid him, Kakashi always managed to slip by…

"Ne..." Kakashi heaved a great sigh, closing his eyes. His head fell back as he swallowed, the knot in his throat bobbing up and down. The edge of his headboard pressed against his scalp, flattening spikes of bedridden hair. His mind struggled sluggishly through several memories, instances of when he'd set his dog tags on some surface: Iruka's coffee table, his desk, his kitchen counter. Even the chunin's bathroom sink. That's where they were, on the chunin's bathroom sink.

Kakashi's frown slowly disappeared, the slightest tilt tugging at the corners of his lips.

The bathroom floor was a sheet of ice against his feet, but Kakashi couldn't concern himself with the sensation. Only when his shower head let forth a burst of hot water did he acknowledge any sensation at all. As water cascaded down into his bathtub, he thought he might like to stay here, like this, drowning in droplets.

He was sincerely considering the notion, given his tired state. Climbing out of bed had proven to be somewhat of a victory, in this fatigued state. Kakashi couldn't explain his unusually deep slumber either, or why the weight of the world seemed to have fallen upon his shoulders. Listlessness was unlike him, unless rendered invalid. The jonin had always been a light sleeper, always waiting to react in the face of potential danger. Even in his homeland, his apartment, he'd long since realized that he was never safe, and he'd trained his body to realize that as well.

So this stubborn lethargy…was completely beyond Kakashi's comprehension. He lugged around, shuffled across his bedroom, making sure to avoid the various tripwires someone had placed down on the floor. His only functioning reflexes seemed to be the instinctual ones; the ones telling him that if he stepped here or stood in this spot for too long, an explosion of kunais might fly across the room and use him for target practice. Alternatively, a bucket of questionable substance might materialize from out of nowhere and pour down on his head.

The jonin reached back, dragging a washcloth across the nape of his neck. He squeezed it with a tight fist, watching the soapy suds cascade down his shoulders. He was in no rush; although, being negligent with his time was not nearly as entertaining when his body and mind seemed drained of all energy. Kakashi shut his gaze and bowed his head, every muscle in his body tensing beneath the heated water.

Kakashi stepped out, eventually, pulling a towel from a rack and wrapping it around his hips. He approached his sink, wiping the steam from the glass above the counter. It cleared, reflecting a mirror image of his bathroom. The jonin looked to his surroundings, the dirty hamper stuffed with unwashed uniforms, the various unused towels hanging from the racks, the linoleum tile design decorating his bathroom walls, a pattern of blue and white squares, and the toilet in the corner, with its seat still suspended in an upright position.

Then there was him.

He hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, giving way to the shadowy blue hue creeping in through his bathroom window. Half of him remained a dark void, as the light hit him in such a way that the pronouncement of his features formed shadows across his pale skin.

Kakashi wasn't too fond of looking at himself, as he did now. The leader of Konohagakure stared, from the dripping mop of hair on his head to the black towel hanging just below his pelvis. The visible part of his body read like a canvas of violence, with different shades and depths of scar tissue painting various parts of his skin. The jonin traced his fingers down a particularly brutal gash scarring his lower abdomen and glided a hand over the puncture wound just below his ANBU tattoo. The remnants of a shallow slash remained etched diagonally across his pecs, a lasting gift from Hidan's triple-bladed scythe. Various small scrapes covered his upper torso, including an electric burn marring the skin against his left scapula.

There was one scar, however, that stood out amid the rest. Granted it was Kakashi's fault, for not seeing that his wound be tended to within a proper amount of time. After his fight with the reanimated Haku and final stand with Momochi Zabuza, the jonin went on to help defeat the most revered fighters the enemy had to offer, the revival of Otsutsuki Kaguya, before his Complete-Body Susanoo took toll on what remained of him. Because of his zeal, his fury, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Kakashi quickly lost sight of his own well-being. He kept his cool, as far as his comrades were concerned, thinking critically and strategically for their sake. He quickly forgot about the blow that threatened to slice him in half and the flood of blood gushing from his midsection. He marveled at it now, running a long finger across its jagged surface, not at all regretting what took place that day.

Kakashi reached down, ghosting a hand over the fine silver hairs trailing down from his naval. He traced it, up and down, resigning himself to the low chuckle beating against his rib cage. It amused him to think of how each scar, no matter how old or faded, came with a detailed account of how and where he'd acquired it. How funny it was that he could remember these violent events, and yet he couldn't remember all that had happened last night.

His focus moved about his lean muscled body, looking anywhere but his face. He'd come across villagers, civilian and shinobi alike, and enemies, no less, who wanted nothing more than to see that face. He didn't know what all the fuss was about, to be honest. He held a striking resemblance to the White Fang, nothing more nothing less. That's not to say that, after two decades of wearing masks, he was entirely unaware of the appeal. For many applied a mysteriousness to him they simply could not resist.

He shielded his sight and masked his face, however, for reasons that did not concern the knowledge of others.

Kakashi wandered into his living room, readjusting the towel around his midsection. He continued the task of circumventing tripwires, the only part of an elaborate trap that he hadn't bothered to take down. He'd taken down the nets in the hall, the explosive tags above his windows, and the buckets of syrup hanging from the ceiling of his kitchen. That was after, of course, the onslaught of shuriken he triggered by turning the doorknob to his apartment. He dodged the attack by waiting outside, listening as weapon after weapon punctured his front door.

Kakashi imagined a hefty surprise waiting for him, in his den, but he found that he couldn't care enough to check.

He still couldn't.

The culprit had left a note on the kitchen counter. He picked it up now, as he recalled doing so the night before, his brow furrowing over its simply stated message:

_You're an ass._

There was no name, no indication whatsoever to whom it was that had broken into the Rokudaime's home and rigged it. That's not to say Kakashi didn't already have his suspicions. Despite a lack of sophistication, most likely due to a lack of time, these uninspired traps had the name of a certain tokubetsu jonin written all over them. It didn't take Kakashi long to deduce that this was Anko's doing, especially given the buckets of dango syrup. Dead giveaway.

The jonin tossed the note to the kitchen counter, just as he had last night.

Kakashi could remember that much: dismantling traps and finding a note. He also remembered searching his kitchen for something to eat and finding only a few rotten vegetables, some frostbitten fish, and a carton of milk gone far beyond its expiration date. He'd searched his shelves and found some sake, the memory settled in, gazing at the tall glass bottle now. He picked it up and was surprised to find that it wasn't nearly as heavy as he expected it to be. In fact, the bottle was empty, to where Kakashi found only a drop left circling the base.

"Mm," he grunted, setting the bottle back against the island table.

There was nothing for him here, but his appetite was nonexistent anyway. Kakashi exited his kitchen, wondering why he'd strayed in there. He chucked it up to the dazed monotony of early morning, the sensation of not knowing what to do with himself. The jonin roamed his living room and, at last, thought to put some clothes on when he noticed a package sitting on his coffee table. He approached it, knowing vaguely of its contents.

He'd forgotten all about the package, actually, until laying eye on that empty sake bottle unlocked a floodgate of memories.

Kakashi remembered sitting on his sofa, like now, but with clothes on. In his hand, he held a tall glass filled with his poison of choice. He eyed it, his mind in a hazy stupor far more potent than this morning. It was dark, because he never once bothered to turn on any lights. He settled into the black leather cushions of his furniture and drank, hypnotized by the orange glow coming from a streetlamp outside.

It was morning now, giving way to daylight, and every street lamp down the block had long since been extinguished. There was no tall glass in his hand, no more sake to drink, but Kakashi still managed to gaze upon this mysterious brown package in the same hypnotic trance.

_"…There you are. What the hell are you doin' here? Why aren't you over at Iruka's?"_

Kakashi reached over and grabbed the package, setting it down in his lap. It was considerably heavy, a fact his strangely weakened muscles had to reconsider. He went about peeling away the wrappings, his fingers soon finding a snag in the leather straps; teeth marks, the jonin gathered, right where a conventional carrier would have held it with two fingers.

Pakkun, he thought, recalling how his familiar pug materialized beside what was once a full bottle of sake.

_"Answer me, you dolt!"_

_"…I was there earlier."_

_"Yeah, but you're not there, now, and we were wonderin' why."_

_"Nee... I thought if I left during one of your many catnaps, I'd be spared this interrogation."_

_"We're no cats, damn it. We're ninken."_

_"Easily provoked as always, Pakkun."_

_"What's going on, Kakashi? You'd rather sit here in the dark than stay with Iruka?"_

_"…I have my reasons."_

_"What reasons?"_

It was a wooden chest, well-polished, with the Konoha emblem engraved on the lid. Kakashi pulled off the lid and tossed it, reaching for what he assumed was a certification of some sort.

_"Don't make me bite you."_

_"Like you could bite me."_

_"I've bitten you before."_

_"I'll have you put down, this time."_

_"Kakashi…!"_

_"He asked me to leave."_

_"Who, Take?"_

_"No…Iruka."_

Kakashi unfolded the piece of paper, his eye widening in intrigue at the sight

_"…"_

_"He asked that I not stay the night, and I thought it would be considerate of me to leave before he arrived."_

_"What do you mean he asked you not to stay?"_

_"…It's exactly as it sounds, Pakkun."_

_"I know what it sounds like! What did you do, Kakashi?"_

_"I'm not sure… I take it that's for me."_

_"Yeah. Iruka woke me up and sent me off with it. When I asked why he couldn't give it to ya himself, he wouldn't answer me."_

_"I see…"_

It wasn't a certificate. It wasn't a receipt or a statement of ownership. It was a handwritten note, much like Anko's, except it was longer and didn't insult him. He recognized this script, the neat and tightly coiled manner in which every word was written. He'd seen it before, marking student assignments and chastising poorly written mission reports. This was Iruka's writing.

_"What is this?"_

_"Highly flammable, if they're anything like the last ones."_

The jonin folded the paper and looked away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He panned over it but didn't read it, not really, as though a note this short could possibly bring any message of importance. Still, he hesitated, his gaze staring off into the distance.

_"You've completed the task Iruka has given to you. You can go now."_

_"What about you?"_

_"What about me?"_

_"…"_

_"I'm staying here, Pakkun. This is where I live, after all."_

_"Then I'm staying, too. We can catch up. You can let me in on all the other stuff you haven't been telling us."_

_"…"_

_"Kakashi…"_

_"I'm better left alone. You'll find Iruka and Take far better company than I."_

_"That depends. How many drinks have you had?"_

_"Go, Pakkun."_

_"…Is that an order?"_

_"I can easily make it one."_

_"Fine, I'll go. But just so you know, I don't like this."_

_"Ne…too bad. You're spoiled enough, as it is …"_

Kakashi unfolded the flimsy piece of paper once more, needing to quench a thirst for occupation. His brow creased, soaking in Iruka's words at a snail's pace. When he finished reading it, he read it again, unable to stop.

_'Kakashi,_

_Shun-san sends his regard. He apologizes for the inconvenience it must have been, for you to have "his fine work purloined and pillaged in such a disgraced manner". His words, not mine._

_Anyway, Shun-san allowed me the 'privilege' of being the first to see your new robes. I like them. I think you might like them, too._

_-Iruka'_

Kakashi clenched Iruka's note in his hand, staring into the box beneath his gaze. He reached in, pulling out what was unmistakably the red sleeve of a full-length kimono. He blinked, the familiar texture of fine fabric fulfilling a sensation pleasurable to the touch. He'd seen the likes of it before, many times in his youth, worn by the White Fang. Kakashi delved further into the contents of the chest, deplorably intrigued by what was to be his new robes, what it was the elders wanted him to wear.

_"They will look to you, for encouragement…"_

Utatane's words weighed a heavy burden on the Rokudaime's person. He was not looking forward to this day. It was never an ambition of his to fulfill this role. Kakashi would rather command from the field, as a fellow soldier, than from the reservations of the highest office, like a cowardly king, and a few expensively tailored, silk-lined robes would never convince him otherwise.

_'I like them.'_

Kakashi stood, setting the chest and his new attire down on his coffee table. He would have to dig through his drawers for a pair of uniform pants, a mask and some undergarments, but it would seem that the rest of his wardrobe had been chosen for him. He would later find the white sash and mantle of a Hokage, the traditional headpiece and haori, with the kanji of the Rokudaime written on the back of white robes.

With an air of annoyance, he discarded his towel, tossing it over the back of the sofa. The jonin turned heel and headed to his bedroom.

He would have to trust in his assistant's taste in style.

 

* * *

 

"We wish you well, Team Ouda. You are now free to go, as dismissed by the Rokudaime."

Team Ouda's leader regarded the panel's reporter with a curt nod, bowing deeply before the Hokage.

"Thank you, Hokage-sama," he said, his eyes turned to the floor. The Hokage looked on, partially disinterested, but returned the man's gesture with a nod of approval. The four-man cell gave their final bows before departing. Kakashi was beginning to lose count of the many times he'd seen a team leave this room, envious that he couldn't do the same.

The Shinobi Committee panel assembled by midday, just as Lady Utatane had threatened. Made up of eleven individuals: three board members, three elders, two commanding officers, one lord, one kage, and one lower level representative, the panel went about publicly verifying high profile missions, including a number of S-Class missions, A-Class missions, and an assortment of important reconnaissance deployments meant to eventually lead to S and A-Class assignments.

The reporter, an elected board member, called out the arriving team while the other board members acknowledged it. Sometimes a commanding officer or an elder would have a few things to say, but it was the Hokage's job to relay the objectives and provide moral support. Finally, the lower level representative took thorough notes and could offer a few words, if they were daring, and Kakashi wished for such audacity. Regardless, the information the lower level representative jotted down would eventually go to both the Hokage and into public records.

Kakashi gave his words and reassured his soldiers but found little investment in any of the proceedings.

Gaining the attention of the chunin sitting beside him concerned him more than the hours it took publicly announcing already documented knowledge. The Rokudaime's gaze shifted to his right, discreetly eyeing the stubbornly distant sensei for any opportunity. Still, Iruka never once glanced back at him. He never once said a word to him, not even before the proceedings began. He simply went about his duties, keeping his head down as he took notes.

Kakashi looked up, feeling the stern glare of someone else burn into his masked face. He leaned forward, catching Lady Utatane's beady-eyed stare from a few seats off.

"Excellent," The daimyo cooed, sitting directly to Kakashi's left. "It's been some time since I've paid witness to such agreeable proceedings." With a resounding thud, the double doors closed behind Team Ouda.

Kakashi looked Iruka's way once more, gazing intensely beneath the headgear above his brow. "It pleases me that you are happy with the proceedings, Lord Shijimi," he sighed, not once taking his eye off the mute Academy sensei.

"Next on our roster," called the reporter, standing directly from Iruka's right side, "is a peaceful venture. An S-Class, in rank: Team 7 of Konoha, to establish alliance with the Hidden Rain."

The board member seated himself, setting his roster back down against the table. Unbeknownst to Kakashi, his half-lidded stare had fixed itself upon the man, staring him down in veiled disbelief.

"No," he breathed.

The panel looked to the masked man, collectively confused.

"I beg your pardon, Kakashi-sama?" the reporter asked, but it was already too late. Kakashi heard the Anbu guards stationed in the hallway make way for an approaching team. He heard the rustle of a door handle and, soon after, saw it turn. He looked to the rest of the panel, his visible eye showing composure but wanting nothing more than to question these turns of events. The committee was not similarly troubled, as the team pronounced was no more significant than the last. He spotted Lady Utatane, Elder Mitokado, and Elder Hurasu, however, all three of whom sat with a look of tranquility far pressed into their faces.

At last, he looked to Iruka, who most closely resembled the apprehension he felt. Still, the chunin refused to look his way. He kept his eyes fixed downward. The palms of his hands sat flat against the table, trembling. Kakashi noticed the movement run through the chunin, one so subtle that only he could see it.

Iruka understood the way he understood, he knew, and so believed that this had to be a mistake.

"Team 7, please enter!" The doors opened. Kakashi looked to Iruka again, but his anxious stare had already shot across the room. He looked dejected, to Kakashi's discerning eye, but the jonin supposed the feeling appropriate. Iruka knew better than anyone how this might affect certain members of Team 7. Kakashi was only surprised that the headstrong chunin hadn't yet objected with passionate rage. Instead, Iruka remained reserved, acting no more expectant than the rest of the panel.

Kakashi set sight on the three individuals who entered the room. Having spent a fair amount of time with each, he could detect their person based on the smallest of details, like their scent and gait upon arrival. Sakura entered first, and Kakashi inevitably acknowledged her with a short nod. The kunoichi donned the standard issue flak jacket of a jonin, one Kakashi did not often see her wear. Then there was Sai, standing beside her, also wearing his flak jacket, and Kakashi acknowledged him as well.

"Ah, this is your team," Lord Shijimi hummed, leaning close. "Is it not true, Kakashi-sama?"

Kakashi grunted his confirmation. Sakura and Sai came forward, until the two stood at the center of the room. After the dozens of teams to come before him, the surrealism of sitting on the committee and not standing before it had long since vanished, but to see his own team…it was devastatingly peculiar.

"Kakashi-sama," Sakura said, almost timidly, before bowing. The uncertainty in her voice came from being here to begin with, Kakashi believed, certainly not from facing him as the village leader. Sai felt the same way, no doubt, as he stood in his usual unusually standoffish manner.

"Kakashi-sama," he said, also taking a bow.

Kakashi nodded to them both, still unable to form proper words. That's when the third of their party stepped forward, flanking Sakura's other side. As Kakashi had sensed, it was not his blonde haired charge but a pale man with short brown hair and pitch black eyes. Yamato entered, wearing his signature full-face head protector. Iruka's hands slipped away from the edge of his sight, the Hokage noticed, gripping at the sleeves of his arms instead. Kakashi looked between the two, Iruka's weary brown eyes and Yamato's expressionless stare, before narrowing his gaze upon the latter.

"Kakashi-sama," Yamato greeted, bowing as well.

"Yamato-san," Kakashi murmured, speaking at last. "This is a mistake."

The committee exploded with whispers of bewilderment.

"K-Kakashi-sama…!" The reporter gasped, addressing the Rokudaime's sternness. "I-I don't understand the confusion. It's written here that Team 7 was called in for duty—"

"Then the words were ill-constructed, Koizuma-san," Kakashi stated stiffly, looking passed the chunin who would not dare look at him. "No such call was ordered." He looked back towards Team 7, his gaze turning cold. "The assignment is premature, I assure you."

"But Hokage-sama…" Elder Mitokado leaned forward, gracing Kakashi's sight. "Was it not you who demanded negotiations with Amegakure?" He paused to readjust the glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "You were adamant about aiding them in their time of need."

"Yes, yes!" Hurasu grumbled, snorting haughtily. "You seem to think we owe them a debt of kindness," he snarled, "and you had all of us quite convinced that peace would come from forming an alliance with these…people," the elder wheezed, smiling a snake-like grin. "So we of the council discussed the details and ramifications and ordered the mission, just as you said we should."

"Yes, but," no, Kakashi thought. He looked to Hurasu, keeping to his calm and collected state. "Team 7 is, currently, inactive and cannot be called for duty," he replied, coolly.

"Oh, but they are active, Kakashi," Lady Utatane chimed in, leaning forward as well. Kakashi could see all three elders now, the bane of his existence. "In fact, the records show that it was you who personally authorized Team 7's reinstatement. I have the records here," she mentioned, lifting the papers in her hands, "and your signature is on every page." That couldn't be right, Kakashi knew. Of the teams he approved this week, Team 7 had not been among them. Furthermore, had Team 7 come across his desk, he would have never renewed their status to active duty. He was not so thoughtless as to assign missions to a team still clearly in the process of convalescence.

He would never do something so inhumane…to Naruto.

Kakashi settled back into his chair, looking to his team. It was apparent the three of its members present didn't know what to believe. Considering the heat behind Sakura's green eyes, he suspected the pink haired jonin believed him partially to blame, if not entirely. Her once timid state had grown defiant, and she stood with more confidence. Sai, as always, looked strapped for an emotion. Eventually, his expression settled on discontent, though it did not come through as clearly as Sakura's. Only Yamato kept a semblance of professionalism, his many more years of experience having taught him how useless emotions were when it came to dealing with his superiors. Kakashi didn't know why, but Yamato's composure irked him, nonetheless.

"Sakura…” His voice sounded so subdued, the jonin almost hadn't heard it. Kakashi looked to Iruka, just as Team 7 and the rest of the panel did. The chunin no longer trembled, but the grief in his eyes carried a similar trimmer.

"Iruka-sensei," Sakura responded softly, giving the man a gentle nod.

"Sakura, where is Naruto?" Kakashi had wondered the same thing but deemed his apparent involvement a more grating curiosity. It would be Iruka, of course, to ask of Naruto's whereabouts, because he was concerned for his former charge. Kakashi would have been more concerned had Naruto actually showed.

"We're not sure," Sakura answered, looking to her team with a renewed sense of uncertainty. "I spoke with him a few days ago, about the notice, but he dismissed it. And when we were assigned the mission, he didn't get back with any of us."

"I say," Lord Shijimi breathed, amused in his surprise. "Are you saying there's a team member missing…? Of course! Uzumaki Naruto, if I'm not mistaken. He is on your team," the daimyo said, smiling graciously at Kakashi.

"Yes," Koizuma-san confirmed, checking his roster. "Uzumaki Naruto is a member of Team 7 but has, apparently, decided not to show."

"What a shock," Lady Utatane sighed, in one shallow breath. "Wouldn't you agree, Kakashi-sama?"

"It's not a very honorable trait, in a shinobi, to be absent when called upon," Mitokado mentioned.

"Agreed," Hurasu murmured. "Some Hokage he would have made…"

"I move to postpone this mission. A new team will be assigned, upon a later date," Kakashi decreed, firmly, ignoring a chorus murmured disagreement. He could no longer conceal the resentment in his tone but hoped to control his furrowed brow, as he clasped his hands together, gripping at the iron plates of his gloves.

"Preposterous," Hurasu sniffed.

"Kakashi-sama," Yamato stepped forward, breaking from his stance. "I respectfully object to this decision," he said.

"Mm?" Kakashi turned on Yamato, his gaze growing narrowed once more. "It's hardly up for debate, Yamato-san. This mission was structured with a four-man team in mind, and, since you're short one man, Team 7 can't fulfill this requirement. In light of Naruto's absence, this team has no choice but to forfeit its services."

"Kakashi-sama does make a fine point," Koizuma-san said, his fellow board members concurring with short grunts.

Yamato frowned, staring at his senpai.

"Considering the circumstances, I think we can overlook the terms just this once," he said, scanning the rest of the panel. Kakashi couldn't help the subtle twitch at the corners of his lips, when the captain's gaze fell upon his chunin aide.

"Maa, requisites are put in place for a reason, Yamato-san. Otherwise, there would be no point to this convoluted and, quite frankly, tiring system. Rules are rules and regulations are regulations, and we can't overlook them when the occasion suits us."

Yamato stepped back, bemused, staring the Hokage down with disbelief. Kakashi couldn't blame him, as a small part of him balked at hearing such things tumble from his own mouth. "Rules and regulations are fine, but for someone like you to make that argument is something of a shock." The room fell into turbulent whispers. "Don't you agree, Kakashi-sama?"

"Yamato-taichou," Sakura whispered, her eyes shifting nervously between the two men.

"Someone like me," Kakashi uttered, his brow rising. "What are you implying?"

"I mean nothing by it, Kakashi-sama," Yamato shot firmly. "I'm merely trying to make a case for my team. We were assigned a mission and intend to see it through. Our scheduled departure's not for another hour or so. Naruto is bound to show up, before then."

"This is also my team," The Hokage stated, lowly, his eye fixed on the other man. "I've known certain members for much longer than you have and can certainly speak for them, in regards of preparedness. If Naruto couldn't summon himself before this committee, then he's still unfit for duty." Kakashi looked to Sai and Sakura as well, knowing that his words were true. "You all are, in my opinion."

"Teams do not complete missions based on opinion, Kakashi-sama. They do so, because their reputation shows that they can and will," Yamato retaliated.

Kakashi stared hard.

"You should know better than to argue with me the merits of an able fighter, Yamato."

Yamato returned the hardened stare.

"I feel it necessary, when the living, breathing, epitome of such an argument has abandoned his principles."

Kakashi stood, his chair bouncing back against the wall. The sudden impact started a series of fidgets and jumps among the panel. Kakashi bowed his head, pacing his rising frustration. His eye fell upon Iruka, whose gaze remained fixed upon Yamato.

"…This no longer amuses me," Kakashi said, though his words implied that the proceedings prior to this moment had ever amused him to begin with. "Yamato-san, you've overstepped your bounds. I am no more or less the shinobi I was before assuming the mantle of leader to this village and I believe you of all people know that."

"I do," Yamato remarked, less tempered than before. "That's why I'm struggling to understand this indefinite suspension." He looked his senpai dead in the eye. "Team 7 should return to duty and service the village in the way that its members were trained to."

"Your concerns have been acknowledged, but I reinforce the terms with an understanding of what's best for my former students."

"And I object, based on what's best for this team," Yamato challenged.

Their heated exchange went silent, giving way to a room that had long since done the same. Kakashi panned the room, noting a certain reverence amid his colleagues' faces. His team, however, stood in a stupor.

Still standing, Kakashi's steely-eyed stare settled on his Anbu subordinate once more.

"Is that it, then?" he hummed playfully, but there existed no humor in his voice. "You speak your words but disregard mine. Never forget that I'm Team 7's leader, Yamato-san, and, though a necessary addition, you will not replace me..." Kakashi spied locks of brown hair, a signature ponytail, in the corner of his eye, "and I mean that in every regard."

"Kakashi-sama!"

Eyes wide with condemnation... Kakashi had longed to see that intense stare for what seemed like an eternity, as they now looked to him almost pleadingly. After hours of suffering, however, it was something of a relief to hear Iruka finally address him, albeit in a disapproving, certainly hateful manner.

"Iruka-sensei," he replied, his furrowed brow ebbing away. "Is there something you'd like to contribute?" Iruka glanced about the room, to the others sitting on the panel. Kakashi watched them as well, noting their dismissive stares.

"Well," Iruka cleared his throat nervously. "I…I think you should reconsider Yamato-san's position, Kakashi-sama."

"I wonder why," Kakashi muttered tightly, earning an instantaneous glare from the chunin.

"Reinstating Team 7 truly is in your former students' best interest," Iruka snapped, gaining a few judgmental stares. He looked towards Sakura and Sai, offering them both a brief nod. "A good reputation is required for promotion, which can only be made through a consecutive completion of assignments. You know that yourself, Kakashi-sama…" The boldness in the chunin's tone trailed away, but his gaze remained firm.

Kakashi didn't speak at first, considering Iruka's words. More than that, the jonin hoped to suspend this moment. The monotony of that morning seemed to have finally taken leave, and Kakashi gladly lost sight of the panel, those dull faces staring back at him. Sakura, Sai, and Yamato faded away, too, as he focused solely on the chunin sensei staring back up at him. Iruka's gaze never wavered, never looked away, and it was a refreshing sight to be had. Even if Kakashi saw only trepidation, it was better than to see nothing at all.

"…What about Naruto, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka hesitated, noticeably stunted, and it surprised Kakashi to find conflict emerge from within him. When it came to their shared charge, he thought the answer would have been obvious. But Iruka took his time, and it was a trying pleasure for the captivated Hokage.

"I also feel that this is in Naruto's best interest," Iruka managed, his gaze faltering. "There's no way he can realize his dreams, otherwise." Iruka's lukewarm eyes met Kakashi's cool silver one once more. "He'll move on, Kakashi-sama."

Kakashi frowned, nodding. "I see…"

The committee returned, granted, not by Kakashi's will.

A low hum resonated throughout the room, beating against the walls. Kakashi sensed a familiar signature, one burning with unadulterated rage as it speedily approached. An unmistakable chakra once greater than any chakra Kakashi had known for some time. Although, it'd been waning in recent months and, since the war, had never truly been the same. Still, its ferocity could bring down a legion of enemy assault, an impressive characteristic given its origin. There was a time when Kakashi believed such an uncontrollable surge of chakra would go to waste, with its owner only capable of using it for rapid recovery and multiplication—once involuntarily, at that.

Now this very same chakra threatened to strip away the structural integrity of this entire building, a fact Kakashi found quite exhilarating.

"What was that?" asked Shizuto-san, the board member sitting beside Koizumi. He looked frantically toward his fellow colleagues, as they did the same.

"It's nothing," Hurasu snarled pompously, throwing his snout of a nose in the air.

"It's very much something, Elder Hurasu," Kakashi drawled, staring at the double doors. Everyone followed his gaze, looking to the doors as well. What was fast approaching had now arrived, exchanging words with the Anbu guards outside.

_"…I said let me through, damn it!"_

_"The panel is seeing to another party. You'll have to wait your turn."_

_"That is my fucking party! Now let me through!"_

Naruto barged in, flinging both doors wide open, the furious air that accompanied him being no real surprise. Face flushed and eyes filled with rage, the young man stomped into the room, suffocating its occupants with an all-encompassing aura.

"N-Naruto!" Sakura managed, her eyes growing wide. Sai and Yamato turned, appearing more or less troubled by their teammate's impromptu appearance. Naruto, however, spared his team not a glance. Those dynamic blue eyes of his had latched on to one person, and that person was Hatake Kakashi.

"Naruto," Iruka breathed, just above a whisper, smiling. "You showed up—"

"How dare you."

The room looked to the Rokudaime, waiting for his response. Kakashi stilled, however, standing at a loss for reaction.

"I said how dare you!" Naruto growled, seething. He marched forward, a way made for him when his team stepped away from his furious campaign. He stood before the panel, wearing the black coat uniform and signature orange pants suited to his style and his style alone. His whiskered cheeks stretched as he snarled, while his hands balled into two shaking fists.

Kakashi looked on, more intrigued than disturbed. He could not say the same for his fellow committee members, who looked crossed between fright and anger. As for his assistant, Iruka had settled into his seat, taken aback by the furious young man.

"Ne, Naruto…" Kakashi began. "Forgive me—I don't read minds. What offense did I dare to make?"

"You know what you did!" Naruto shouted back, glaring at his jonin sensei. "I'm not an idiot! You've been limiting my access to Sasuke!" The name brought a wave of chaotic noise from the panel, once more. Kakashi ignored them, as did Naruto and the rest of Team 7. The chunin beside him sunk, producing a low whimper from the back of his throat. Still, when Iruka looked to him, Kakashi knew he had the other man's much appreciated support. "You placed your own lapdogs on his block, and now they tell me I can't see him!"

"Is it that you can't see him, Naruto, or that you can't see him for as long as you would like?"

"Uchiha…Uchiha Sasuke?" Lord Shijimi exclaimed, throwing open his elaborate fan excitedly. "Was he not once a son of Konohagakure? Did he not betray us and aid Akatsuki in attacking this village? Then Madara, his minions, and the very Princess Otsutsuki Kaguya herself!" He looked to Kakashi, horror in his round eyes.

"The very same, my Lord," Elder Mitokado answered, frowning with contempt. Lady Utatane looked on, in quiet disapproval. "His execution date is pending."

"This is insane!" Hurasu threw a beefy fist against the table, causing it to quake. "These proceedings have been sullied with argument and defiance! Kakashi, you must put an end to these outbursts! They are both unsightly and unruly!"

"You're more than welcome to leave, Hurasu, if it bothers you," Kakashi spoke, not caring to look the elder's way. He kept his eye trained on Naruto, sighing. "Is that all?"

"No," Naruto sneered, shoving a fist into his pant pocket. "You know better than anyone what we went through, out there! Yet you abandon one of our own, in your own self-righteous way...! You might have given up on Sasuke, but I haven't!" Naruto's body shook, as he struggled to pull out a crumpled piece of paper. "I refuse to give up on Sasuke, and I won't leave just because you order me to!" Violently, the blonde peeled open the paper, the remains of the scroll, and chucked it to the floor.

Kakashi peered downwards, identifying the crumpled remains for what it was. He'd seen plenty, thousands of these notices. When hospitalized as often as he was, you began to recognize them instantly. Still, this didn't explain why Team 7 had received one.

"It's true," Kakashi shrugged, gazing back at Naruto. "I did place a restriction on your visitation rights, and I switched out the guards but for reasons beyond your relevance."

"Kakashi-sensei…?" Sakura dropped a trembling hand from her mouth, her face alight with curiosity. Kakashi did not respond to her sullen inquiry, however.

"I did those things, where the Uchiha is concerned," he continued, ignoring Iruka's sharpening stare. "I did not, however, authorize Team 7's reinstatement." Kakashi looked to Iruka. "I believe a mistake has been made."

"Liar!" Naruto hissed, pointing an accusing finger in Kakashi's direction. "It's your signature on that notice!" he shouted, looking frantically between Kakashi and the scroll. "Those are your words, the words of a backstabber! Own up to your betrayal, you son of a bitch!"

"NARUTO!"

The table quaked again, tilting forward teasingly. The committee froze with shock, as the Hokage's subdued, soft-spoken, and unsuspecting aide slammed his hands against the table. A few of them jumped, even, when the enraged chunin shot from his seat. Iruka stood, his shoulders hunched forward in challenge. Kakashi felt him, the sudden wrath bellowing within him, nearly trumping the rage of his former student.

"That's enough!" Iruka fumed, staring Naruto down with anger and disappointment. Naruto's temper faltered, looking pitifully to his pre-genin sensei. "You know better than to behave like this, to address the Hokage in this way. Kakashi-sama has done nothing wrong! He's believed in you and has supported you, for years, and has done more for you and Sasuke than you will ever know!" The chunin roared, throwing down another fist. "Kakashi-sama does not have to explain himself to you!"

Naruto bowed his head, spiky blonde locks falling forward.

"Have I made myself clear?"

"…Yes, Iruka-sensei," Naruto mumbled, resentfully. The young man grew faint with silence, standing almost dutifully before Iruka. It was impressive, Kakashi supposed, for those who did not know the bond the two shared. The panel watched in astonishment, amazed by the influence of a mere chunin sensei. But for Kakashi and his team, it was not uncommon to see Iruka reprimand Naruto, much in the way a father would reprimand his son.

"Sit down, Iruka-sensei," Lady Utatane demanded coarsely. "The Hokage does not need you to come to his defense. Hatake, tell this boy to cool his tongue, or he will be detained."

"Y-yes, Lady Utatane…" Iruka reached back for his chair, his cheeks growing red in shame.

"Iruka-sensei, you will remain standing," Kakashi barked, glaring at the elderly shrew. "Naruto," he turned to the younger man. "Like always, you charge into any given situation with a hot head. You're a loose cannon with no guidance, and you need to keep calm."

"How can I be calm?" Naruto snapped back, his anger returning to him. "Why should I listen to anything you have to say?"

Kakashi looked to the chunin still standing beside him, considering his words.

"Maa… Naruto, you have turned what was a private dispute into a public affair. Any member of this panel could have you arrested for disrupting these proceedings." The jonin paused to scan both sides of the table. "I should hope that my associates will show you as much leniency as I have, but I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. Restrain yourself—if not for this panel, than for your team and the people here you do respect."

"…"

Naruto heeded the Hokage's words and backed down, but Kakashi saw something in his blue eyes that he would never forget.

The table rattled once more, papers flying from its surface this time. It was a continuous quake, not caused by anyone or anything currently occupying the room. Kakashi frowned, looking to Naruto and Team 7, before searching the length of the table. It wasn't just him, who shook, who saw the scrolls on the walls topple back and forth and heard the rippled sound of an explosion.

"What the hell was that?" Koizumi asked, his eyes darting about the room.

"It definitely wasn't nothing!" Shizuto-san exclaimed.

"Oh my!" Lord Shijimi stood from his chair, gliding toward the windows. The rest of the panel rose from their seats as well, following in pursuit. They soon saw what the daimyo saw, smoke billowing in the distance. "Kakashi-sama, the village is being attacked!"

"What?"

"Oh no…!"

The two Anbu guards present rushed to Lord Shijimi's side, ushering the daimyo away from the windows.

"Come, sir. We must get you to a safe location."

"This is the safest location," Kakashi corrected. "Lord Shijimi stays here." The jonin marched over to the windows in a dignified stride, flanked by Iruka and an equally curious Team 7. Even Naruto, with his body still racked with rage, rushed to crowd the windows. Everyone grew silent, with the exception of a few nervous whispers, giving way to a cry of chaos coming from the streets of the village.

The explosion, however, occurred only once, as far as Kakashi could determine with sharp eye and ears.

"I heard it only once," Yamato said.

"So it would seem," Kakashi droned, but it was difficult to confirm when a sea of rising ash blanketed the sky. Kakashi pressed a hand against the glass, measuring the distance of each smoke column with the width of his fingers. They were miles off from one another, more or less, the closest being just outside the village perimeters.

"Kakashi-sama, what do we do?"

Kakashi turned to Katsuo-san, a commanding officer to Intelligence.

"Katsuo-san, notify Aoba-san and village security. We're on high alert."

"What about the threat?"

"The threat is not within the limits of Konoha proper, but it is within proximity."

"If I may ask, sir, how can you tell?"

Kakashi laid eye on the closest column once more, analyzing. "It's crossfire," he answered, without answering the question. "It's a greeting, but the enemy has no intention of approaching. I fear their course of action is, by far, worse than what I had initially expected."

"Hokage-sama!" For a second time that day, the double doors burst open and slammed shut with a harsh thud. The Hokage ripped his gaze away from the distant chaos of smoke and debris, addressing the newcomer. "You come with information?" he asked, eyeing his subordinate, a petite redhead.

"Yes, sir!" she eagerly vocalized, taking a short bow. "Michi-san, sir, dispatched by reconnaissance task force, Squad 1. Mitarashi-san has sent me, personally, to relay what has taken place."

"The village is under attack—we can see that!" Hurasu bellowed.

"No, sir!" Michi-san shook her head fervently. "The village has not been attacked, but…" Anko's messenger trailed off, the obvious shock in her eyes also rendering her silent.

"But what?" Kakashi urged, approaching her. "Relay the message, Michi-san."

"Yes, sir." Michi-san gave another uneasy bow, looking past the Rokudaime to the many eyes staring back at her. "Hokage-sama," she nodded, "Board and Council members…Lord Shijimi—"

"Speak, woman!"

"Hurasu..." Lady Utatane chided. "Well go on, Michi-san. Speak."

"Right," the messenger breathed, composing herself. "Konohagakure is safe, but…Haru was attacked, as well as other villages surrounding the Hidden Leaf, including Tanzaku Quarters. One of which has been almost entirely destroyed."

Kakashi's eye bulged.

"Which village?" he asked.

"The Sogen village," Michi-san replied, looking solemnly to the floor. "Mitarashi-san is there now, fending off what remains of the threat."

"And what is the threat, at this moment?"

"It's difficult to say, Hokage-sama. No matter how many we defeat, more and more keep coming," she admitted, a disparagement in her tone. "They're shrouded in white robes, their faces masked, and we have yet to understand where they're coming from. They're advancing, still, and now Mitarashi-san and Morino-san's joint forces are battling them!"

"Battling who?" Officer Katsuo-san asked, his thick black brow furrowing. "Do they have a name?"

"No," Kakashi replied, gaining wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room. "They won't have a name," he explained, staring out towards the blackening sky, "because they work en masse. They're faith followers of Princess Kaguya, Madara henchmen who go on working under someone they believe to be in command." The jonin looked to Katsuo-san, nodding. "Their leader has ensured that they are loyal, even well after death."

"Yeah, but who?"

"It doesn't matter who," Yamada-san, a commanding officer of the Anbu Interrogation Taskforce, growled. She turned towards Kakashi, crossing her arms. "Hokage-sama, what is to be done?"

Kakashi sighed but kept his poise, regarding Anko's timid messenger.

"Michi-san."

"Yes, sir."

"I suspect Mitarashi-san and Morino-san's joint forces are in need of assistance."

"Yes sir," she nodded. "They were prepared for an attempted attack but on Konoha alone. We were not prepared to defend and assist four villages simultaneously!"

"No explanation is needed," Kakashi excused her. "Yamada-san," he turned to the battle-ready woman. "You will follow Katsuo-san and relay this information to every commanding officer. I want every capable ninja called to duty and assigned to retrieval, medical, and battle teams." He looked to Yamada and Katsuo both, growling, "Konohagakure will see to it that this threat does not reach our borders and that it is maintained before more harm can be done."

"Yes sir!"

"Yes, Hokage-sama!"

"Go."

Anbu guards filtered in, just as Katsuo-san and Yamada-san disappeared in a flurry of leaves. They circumnavigated Michi-san, bringing the board members, the Elders, and Lord Shijimi to the center of the room.

"Kakashi-senpai." Kakashi looked to Yamato, noting the determined stare in his subordinate's eyes. "We should go," he continued, looking to the rest of Team 7.

"You should," Kakashi agreed with earnest. "Sakura, I expect you to lead a medical team. Your healing prowess is unmatched, and it would be a benefit to have a strong combat fighter among those protecting the injured."

"Yes, Kakashi-sama," Sakura replied.

"Sai, assist Anko in surveillance. Take to the skies."

"Yes sir," Sai nodded.

Kakashi's half-lidded stare shifted between Yamato and Naruto, considering them both. Given Yamato's wood yielding capabilities, he'd do well to obstruct and detain the enemy whenever possible. Additionally, the captain's tracking abilities were second to none, with the exception of Anko, perhaps. As for Naruto… Kakashi's eye looked into his eyes, blue lightning. They were quite reminiscent of the Yellow Flash, a fact that was never once lost on the jonin.

The Rokudaime saw the same resolve, the same perpetual determination as the Yondaime.

"Yamato."

"Kakashi-senpai."

"I don't have to tell you what needs to be done. You know."

"Hai." Yamato turned to Sakura and Sai. "Let's go." Their fortitude trumped all feelings of shock over having been attacked. They knew only what was commanded of them, to protect the Hidden Leaf, and Kakashi watched them leave with growing acceptance of that fact.

"Will you go, Naruto?" he asked, having kept the lingering blonde in his peripheral sight.

"…That's a stupid question." Kakashi's half-lidded eye marveled at his former charge. Naruto looked away, a stubborn expression gracing his whiskered face. "My home is in danger…and I'm a capable ninja."

"Ma, and then some," Kakashi hummed.

"Iruka-sensei," Naruto said, turning towards his chunin sensei. He gave the older man a thin-lipped smile and a stiff nod. Iruka smiled back, sadness in his eyes. "Would ya mind treating me to a bowl of ramen, after this?"

"Give it your all, and I don't see why not."

"Hehe," Naruto snickered. He winked and headed off, racing after his departed team. Kakashi watched him go, before turning his attention to the council and board members held at the center of the room.

"I suspect you had prior knowledge of this attack, Kakashi-sama?"

"What would make you say that, Lady Utatane?"

Lady Utatane frowned.

"You seem unusually at ease with what's happening to this village."

"It's not happening to this village, Lady Utatane," he drawled. "It's happening to the surrounding villages, and that I did not anticipate. However, if it's my job to contain and control the situation, then I will do so with a cool head."

"I commend you, in the attempt."

"Thank you." Kakashi looked to the Anbu guards. "I want a full search through Konoha. Bring the villagers to the mountain dwellings and stand guard. Whatever manpower is left will head out to the village in need of the highest priority."

"Hai, Hokage-sama!" A few Anbu disappeared while a few more stayed behind, ushering members of the panel from the room.

Kakashi remained in one place, growing increasingly detached.

It was an unusual position to be in, he thought. True, he was used to being a leader. Because of his reputation, his abilities and experience, the role most often given to him was one that required leading from behind the scenes. Even while behind the scenes, however, there was never a situation where his presence wasn't entirely unnecessary…until now.

It never once occurred to Kakashi what a kage did during times of crisis, except stay idle while watching others carry out their orders.

As far as fighting went, a kage's involvement was as unlikely as a hidden shinobi village completely safe from harm.

"Hold on," Koizuma-san rushed back towards the table, collecting his papers. "Someone should have evidence of today's proceedings…just in case."

"Take mine as well..."

"That's quite fine, Iruka-sensei."

"Thank you, Koizuma-san."

Iruka appeared as a passing blur, and time stood still. Kakashi froze as well, listening to the pulsing thud from within his chest drown out all other sounds. A chill ran up his spine, as he felt submerged in cold dread. The sensation was instantaneous and disappeared just as suddenly, when a hand, one much like his own, clasped itself around the warm, tan wrist of another.

Time resumed as it was, and a disgruntled chunin stumbled back at normal speed.

"What the— Kakashi-sama…?"

“Where do you think you're going?" Kakashi inquired, eyeing Iruka.

"Isn't it obvious?" The chunin frowned, pulling his wrist from Kakashi's grip. "I'm going to join a squad."

"That won't be necessary."

"You gave the order, Kakashi-sama. Every capable shinobi. Well, I'm as capable as anyone else, and it's my duty to help protect the village in any way I can."

"No, your duty is to stay here," Kakashi corrected, "with me."

"Kakashi-sama—"

"Are you my assistant or not?"

"Yes, but…"

"Let him go, Kakashi-sama," Lady Utatane voiced. Among the committee, she had dismissed the Anbu and had chosen to stay, as had Elder Mitokado. Kakashi glared. Of all those to stay behind, he thought, it had to be Elder Mitokado and Lady Utatane. "Close the doors," she ordered the Anbu guards.

"Yes, Lady Utatane."

The doors closed behind them.

"Kakashi-sama," she began, "you have a firm grasp on the situation. You've proven that. Regardless, Mitokado-san and I will follow you to the Hokage balcony. From there you will guide the men, as it is expected of you to relay information and further your orders." She paused, sparing Iruka a glance. "Iruka-sensei is, indeed, a capable shinobi. He should be out there, offering his strength on the field."

"Lady Utatane is correct," Elder Mitokado chimed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Iruka-sensei, you may go."

"Yes, Elder Mitokado," Iruka bowed. He gave Kakashi one final glance, a fleeting look the jonin couldn't bear to return. When Iruka passed by the elders, however, Kakashi found himself unable to gaze anywhere but the chunin's way. Even when the double doors closed behind him, the jonin's gaze remained fixed in that direction.

"Can you hear that, Kakashi-sama?" Elder Mitokado asked, approaching him. The elder was referring to the commotion outside, the panicked cries of villagers preparing themselves for the worst.

"Yes. I hear them," he said, looking towards the blackening outdoors.

"You will see to them," Lady Utatane said. "We must retire to the balcony now."

"I have a better idea." Kakashi turned on his heel, strolling past the two. He made it to the doors, before the elders could catch up with him.

"Where are you going?" Elder Mitokado asked.

"A place where I can be of better use."

"That's here, right here! In this building, on that balcony!" The elder barked. "This is the role of the Hokage, Kakashi-sama. Granted, you are handling your first real emergency quite well, and it is clear that we have not misplaced our faith in you, but you must recognize that there are procedures to adhere to, as our leading public figure."

Kakashi ignored him, throwing the double doors open.

"Mitokado-san is right. Whatever you've got planned, Kakashi, it doesn't compare to the importance of you being on that balcony."

"Balcony? What balcony is that then?" Kakashi hummed, continuing down the hall. To his annoyance, the elders followed in pursuit. "Where I'm going is most important, I assure you."

"Where is that then?" Mitokado snapped.

Kakashi slowed until his steps came to a halt.

"I'm going to Sogen," he said. "I'll keep an open channel, from there. Given its close proximity, it's where the enemy will, most likely, further their advancements," he turned around, his steely gaze burning into the two elders. "That is, if it's their intention to pursue a full-fledged attack against us."

"What makes you so sure that that's not their intention?" Elder Mitokado scoffed.

"…I have a hunch."

"A hunch he says!" Elder Mitokado growled. "Had I known the Rokudaime dealt in hunches, I would have cowered behind the safety of Anbu like a dog, with my tail tucked between my legs, just as Hurasu did!"

"There's still time," Kakashi shrugged.

"Now listen here, Kakashi." Elder Mitokado pointed a shaking finger in the masked man's face. "You will stay behind. Under these circumstances, being a leader does not mean compensating for the shortcomings of your comrades. As Hokage, you lead and you fight only when a threat presence itself to you. Only then do you grace the battlefield. Do you understand?"

"No," Kakashi frowned, his tone growing venomously skeptic. "No, I don't understand. Holding the Hokage behind is not a strategy that applies to our current situation. A hidden village on the verge of full recovery should respond to enemy attack with all of its strength, including the Hokage. A demonstration of power is the only way to save face and, considering that's all the council is concerned about, my decision should please you."

Kakashi turned, nearing the stairwell. On any other occasion, he would've simply jutsued away. As it was, he had every intention on engaging in combat, so he needed to reserve his chakra for the field.

The jonin stopped, midway down the staircase, when he realized the elders still had every intention on following him.

"Ne… Perhaps I must put this in words you two will understand," he muttered, gazing upon them for what he hoped would be the last time.

They froze at the top of the staircase, their wrinkled brows furrowing down upon him, and Kakashi would have been amused if he wasn't already fed-up with their mere presence.

"Elder Mitokado, Lady Utatane…I'm going to do whatever it is that I do, and the two of you will not interfere. You will object and disapprove, and I will continue to not care. You'll go on, as you do, trying to pull the strings behind the scenes. The hilarity of it all is that you, The Council, couldn't be more detached from the reality of shinobi life, and what knowledge of battle you once knew is forever lost beneath decades of bureaucratic nonsense."

Lady Utatane and Elder Mitokado looked to each other.

"You're not part of the solution—you're part of the problem, so stay out of my way. I will not join you, on the Hokage balcony. I do not intend to stand idly by, watching my men fend from a distance. I especially do not intend to have you two flanking my sides wherever I go, feeding me whispering poison in my ears. I told you once before," Kakashi growled, "I'm not your errand boy."

With that, the Hokage turned, proceeding down the staircase.

"…What about rules and regulations, Kakashi? Was that not your case, before Team 7?" Elder Mitokado sneered.

"There's no law that binds me to undesirable places…or people, for that matter," Kakashi threw over his shoulder, continuing down the stairwell. He spotted a few Anbu troops rounding up villagers, as he glanced through passing windows.

"This isn't about us…not really, is it?" He heard Lady Utatane say, but Kakashi didn't want to spare the woman another second, so much as another glance. "This is about Iruka-sensei."

Kakashi now froze, with his hand pressed against the stairwell wall.

"That's what this is about…this rebellion?"

"That chunin sensei," Elder Mitokado gasped obnoxiously. "I'm not surprised. He's been a bad influence, I take it…should have known as such, when he dared to mouth off to a council member."

"Punishing us will in no way help defend Konoha, Kakashi," Lady Utatane said, her voice an echo down the stairwell.

Kakashi could no longer resist the urge to look at them, those elders that enraged him so. He turned at the bottom of the staircase, again, directing a cold stare their way.

"To tell you the truth," Lady Utatane continued, "what I said yesterday served as a necessity. The... _companionship_ you share with Umino-san is ill-fitted for a Hokage of the Hidden Leaf. You must come to terms with this fact," she frowned.

"That's right," Elder Mitokado supplied, though a layer of confusion had settled against his haughty expression. "He belongs on the field, dying for his village, while you belong here, leading it." He looked to his fellow council member, offering Lady Utatane a supportive nod, one the elderly woman did not acknowledge.

The Hokage gazed between the two and scoffed, the corners of his lips, again, twitching uncontrollably.

"…Go to hell." Kakashi walked away, his new robes billowing behind him.

The elders did not follow suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new threat dawns, at long last, leaving Kakashi and Iruka in search of solace in its wake.

"Get down!"

Kakashi shouted the order just as a horde of weapons came pelting down the fields of Sogen. He witnessed pockets of Hidden Leaf shinobi duck for cover, while many more succumbed to the oncoming onslaught.

He watched it all, dressed in the garbs of a Hokage but with the mindset of a soldier, taking cover and regrouping with the closest fleet of their force. Their enemy was a rare assortment of shinobi whose only affiliation seemed to be the mass chaos they created. They wielded weapons and skills of many kinds, with no real signature. Decked in black uniforms and head wraps, traditional shinobi garbs, while wearing false masks on their faces, they charged across the appointed battlefield like fiendish killing machines. Kakashi presided over his soldiers but attacked right alongside them, hoping to hinder further advancement from their nameless, faceless threat.

"Kakashi-sama!" Shikamaru touched down beside the Rokudaime, rising from the disturbed ground.

Kakashi acknowledged him with a firm nod but kept his eyes on the field. His Sharingan caught sight of one from the Hidden Leaf doing their best to usher out the inhabiting villagers, treat the injured, and carry the dead. Kakashi and Shikamaru shared a glance, when a member of the enemy separated from a cluster and charged the two with a lengthy sword.

"I'll take care of this," Shikamaru spat, turning towards their attacker. Nevertheless, Kakashi kept a defensive stance, on the lookout for assaults from every which direction. He found himself scanning the fields again, knowing that he'd see only what he'd been seeing since midday: defensive and offensive attacks, medic-nins afoot, healing, and the swift movements of the retrieval squads assigned to an area. There was nothing else, not that he searched, at all, for anything or anyone in particular. It was ill-timed to worry that somewhere, out there, in this village or the next, a certain chunin sensei might be in need of assistance.

"Ma, he's all yours," Kakashi said but made sure to cover the newly appointed Anbu commander's back.

Their attacker didn't concern the Hokage. He noticed an inexperienced handle of their weapon and that their form was off-balance. Kakashi knew this particular follower would fall instantly to Shikamaru's ability, quite familiar with the craft of his clan.

'Just as I expected,' Kakashi thought again. It was a matter of quantity, not quality, and the perpetrator behind these assaults did not try to hide this fact. He wanted to taunt the people who neighbored Konoha proper, who could not defend themselves— traumatize them and give Konoha reason to be vigilant and expect something far more threatening in the future.

"Kage Shibari no Jutsu!" Dark shadows sprouted from Shikamaru's feet like wild roots, racing across the ground and attaching themselves to the enemy. Their attacker stopped dead in their tracks but stumbled, just as Shikamaru did, when a nearby explosion shook the ground. The Nara clansman regrouped, raising clasped hands into the air. The attacker did the same, growling and shaking violently in their restless attempts to break away. "Tough luck, man," Shikamaru breathed, raising the blade. "There's no way in hell you're escaping from this. Accept your fate."

A blood-curdling scream ripped through the air, before the assailant collapsed in a pool of his own blood. Shikamaru frowned, dispelling his control over their now lifeless body.

"I'm tempted to look under that mask," he uttered, bitterly, turning to Kakashi. "He sounded like a kid."

"It doesn't matter," Kakashi said, staring at the bloodstained corpse. "He was an obvious tool who was toyed with, just as we're being toyed with now."

"Aoba-san tells me you have a pretty good idea of who's behind all this."

"That I do."

"Care to fill in the blanks then?" Shikamaru asked, curiosity apparent in his ever-bored voice.

"…Kabuto," Kakashi replied simply, earning a look of skepticism from the younger man.

"Kabuto? Yakushi Kabuto?" Another explosion rattled the field, before a gust of smoke enveloped the two men. "Argh!" Shikamaru cried out, shielding his eyes from a chemical agent. "This is no ordinary smoke bomb!"

"It's not a smoke bomb!" Kakashi shot back, covering his normal eye. Despite the pain, Kakashi kept his Sharingan roving, scanning the particles of a highly potent genjutsu. "Kai!" he went to dispel it and Shikamaru did the same, but it remained intact. "We'll have to stop it from its source," the jonin said, just as the impact of something sharp knocked the air out of his lungs.

"Kakashi!"

"I'm fine!" Kakashi growled, and he ignored the kunai now impaled above his left clavicle. It was apparent that whoever had hit him had been aiming for his heart but hadn't the precision nor the competency to achieve such a critical hit. Regardless, the enemy's misaim enabled Kakashi to pinpoint their whereabouts, based on the trajectory, speed, and depth of the kunai. Kakashi held a growing spark of electricity in his hand and charged, blindly, ten feet to his left. The chirping buzz of the Chidori filled the air, accompanying the thick, imaginary smoke stinging his nostrils.

"Hurry up!" Shikamaru coughed. Not wanting to give away his position, Kakashi remained silent. The sound of flesh sizzling around his hand and the gurgling noises of a woman choking on her own blood soon drifted through his ears, while the smoke surrounding himself and the Anbu commander cleared. They were, again, able to breathe. "That's much better."

Kakashi pulled his hand from the lifeless being, watching the now deceased attacker fall to their knees.

He turned, returning to Shikamaru's side. The other had knelt down on one knee, holding a fist over his mouth. Kakashi offered a helping hand to assist him in standing.

"Thanks." Shikamaru eyed the kunai impaled in the Hokage's chest, disgruntled. "Any plans on getting that looked at?"

"It's not important right now." Keeping the kunai in his wound would stop excessive bleeding, but the weapon stuck out like a shiny sore thumb and obstructed his movements, too... Kakashi ripped it from his body, a trail of his blood dripping from its sharp blade.

"What of the other villages?" Kakashi asked, flinging the weapon against the ground. "What's their status?"

Shikamaru patted himself down, wiping debris from his shoulders. "In the same shape, just about," he answered, staring at nearby crumbling buildings in dismay. "By all standards, the damage could be worse. Still," he offered Kakashi a grief-stricken glance, "all this destruction… is too troublesome to justify."

Kakashi agreed with a curt hum.

"What of Haru?" he asked, scanning the land once more. Slowly but surely, the battle was nearing its end. More and more of Kabuto's footmen were retreating, in their unexplained and seemingly unprovoked attack. The jonin imagined that those Leaf shinobi still standing would have many questions concerning what had just happened to their neighboring villages.

"I've been personally informed by Mitarashi-san that the threat in Haru and even Tanzaku Quarters is under control. The majority of their people have been relocated to the mountain dwellings of Konohagakure."

"Maa…" Kakashi raised a brow. "The majority?"

"Well, we couldn't save everyone. Could we?" Shikamaru sneered. "In any case, some pillaging occurred but nothing of great value was taken. Haru's resources remain undisturbed. As I'm sure you've figured out, the real damage will be a psychological one. The people are, understandably, remembering the war that threatened our lands not but a couple years back."

Kakashi nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in distress. He asked, speaking low, "What of our men?”

Shikamaru eyed him, frowning. "We'll know more, when we're able to regroup. As it is, all forces have been directed to travel through Kimura, as it's the second safest route to Konoha, and to avoid Nishimura entirely." Shikamaru rubbed at his temple. "That village was leveled almost entirely. Most of our retrieval teams are stationed there, going through the rubble and looking for survivors."

"Nara-san!" A squad of eight appeared before the Hokage and the Anbu commander, with their team captain in the lead. They bowed before Kakashi before turning their attention to Shikamaru once more. "Sogen has been reclaimed. The threat's receding, but we've alerted the other villages to be on the alert."

"Good." Shikamaru nodded, turning to Kakashi. "What are your orders, Hokage-sama?"

Kakashi eyed the eight-man squad. "Relay this to every shinobi of the Hidden Leaf: avoid killing, at all cost. Our objective should be to detain the enemy, so that we can bring them in for questioning."

"Hai, sir."

"You heard him," Shikamaru said. "Relay the information, A-S-A-P!"

Shikamaru sent the squad off to disappear in the blink of an eye.

"Eager, aren't they?" Kakashi said, watching his soldiers take immobilized attackers into custody. He took note of a few other squads helping to round up bodies, while a good number of shinobi worked to put out fires brought on by explosions.

"As a people, we desire peace," Shikamaru began, hatefully. "As humans, we desire conflict. As shinobi, we expect both."

"Peace and its inevitable demise," Kakashi murmured.

"A never-ending cycle we're never ready for.”

“How cynical of you, Shikamaru.”

“Is it no surprise no one's yet questioned the reason behind these attacks? It's a shock to the system, not a friendly invitation. At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter…" the younger man shrugged, offering Kakashi an encouraging nod. "They trust their leader knows what he's doing and so fall in line accordingly."

"How comforting," Kakashi sighed, earning a grim smile from the Anbu commander.

"You trip over yourself with enthusiasm, Hokage," Shikamaru said, his words dripping with sarcasm. "It means a great deal, to see the Rokudaime fighting alongside his men. You've probably gained greater respect in the last hour than any newly appointed kage has ever managed in their first year. I regretfully had business with Ibiki the other day and he says he's tired of hearing shinobi praise you like doe-eyed school kids. Says he'll punish anyone who so much as utters your name in his presence."

"Think all this combat has placated him?" Kakashi asked, frowning. "I'm sure he'll set a prime example when he ignores my orders not to kill whatever remains of the enemy."

"Nah," Shikamaru dismissed, scratching at his shoulder. "Not even his level of bloodlust would blind him to reason. The more survivors there are, the more people we have to interrogate, and he'll find it far more satisfying to torture his subjects than to kill them outright."

“Ever the sadist," Kakashi noted.

"A necessary evil, I bet," Shikamaru muttered, looking to the white sheeted corpses being dragged from the field. "They won't know their luck, if Aoba-san and the intelligence team ends up probing their minds instead." He looked to the Hokage. "By now, he's probably received your order and is at headquarters, searching fresh minds for information."

"Good."

"I take it he's looking for Yakushi's whereabouts, then?"

Kakashi nodded.

The Anbu commander eyed him up and down, still.

"It's a shame he didn't fall in the war. Yakushi Kabuto…" He shook his head, huffing. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it, Shikamaru." Kakashi said, sighing again.

The two fell into a companionable silence, watching as battle squads quickly turned into retrieval squads. Kakashi sensed great disbelief coming from the young man beside him. He then recalled how very few people knew Orochimaru's former assistant remained at large. In their infinite wisdom, the Council had unanimously voted to cover up Konoha's failures, adding to its war chest of secrets, lest the other great shinobi villages see the Hidden Leaf as a weak-link in a chain of grand schemes. Kakashi had only known Kabuto still lived because he was one of a very select few who had witnessed his escape.

"...Heard there was a disturbance at today's committee meeting," Shikamaru started up, staring at Kakashi in mild interest. "Not that I care, but, anything of interest?"

"Shikamaru! There you are…" Akimichi Choji had touched down, fists-first, before releasing his partial, multi-size technique. Like the two other men, a film of dirt and debris dusted over his battle-worn face while dry and drying blood trickled from parts of his battle-torn clothes. Whatever injuries he bore varied too much to determine his current condition.

He noticed the Rokudaime and alarm settled upon his round face.

"Kakashi-sama…! You look terrible!" he gasped, pointing at the older man's shoulder. "You need a medic-team."

"I'm fine," Kakashi said, repeating his earlier reassurance. "You have business with Shikamaru?"

"Oh! Right…" the Akimichi looked to his longtime friend and teammate. "Squads in Haru want to use your shadow technique to take in prisoners."

"Duty calls, I guess."

“I won't hold it against you," Kakashi drawled.

"I'm confused," Akimichi frowned, scanning the area. "Where are your guards, Kakashi-sama?"

"I sent them away," Kakashi answered. "They're better use on the field, than watching over a fully capable shinobi."

"Fair enough," the husky jonin breathed, offering Kakashi an encouraged smile. "Good to see you on the battlefield, Kakashi-sama."

"…I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Two members of the Team Asuma trio disappeared, heading for the village south of Sogen.

Kakashi remained, watching over the battle-stricken village still. The middle village, known for its pleasant commoners and many hot springs, now lay in semi-ruins, and it would be Konoha's responsibility to return it to its former state. Establishments and houses alike crumbled, falling as rubble in pockets of smoke and dying embers. Most of the citizens had long since sought refuge in Konoha, while the shinobi village worked to return order and sense to what seemed absolutely senseless.

"Hokage-sama." An Anbu member appeared before Kakashi, already knelt down against the ground.

"You may stand," Kakashi said, eyeing the masked soldier, "and speak to your purpose."

"Sir, Elder Mitokado and Lady Utatane have sent me. They would like to know when you intend on returning to the village."

Of course, Kakashi mentally griped, the mere mention of the elders bringing a taste of bile to his mouth.

"Tell them not to hold their breath."

"Sir?"

"You heard me," Kakashi narrowed his gaze. "Now go."

"Y-yes, sir."

The Anbu went as quickly as he came, now with Kakashi's response in tow.

"You're really trying to stick it to the man, aren't ya?"

"Pakkun," Kakashi greeted, just as the small dog leapt onto his good shoulder. The pug found a familiar place against his neck, pawing lightly at the torn fabric of his robes.

"You look awful, Kakashi," he grumbled. "You do know that, as Hokage, you ain't got to do much. Right?"

"Yes, I'm well aware of that. Thank you, Pakkun," Kakashi replied in a cool tone. "How's the tracking going?"

"Badly," Pakkun grounded out. "Two of us in every village and we still can't stamp out a single scent."

"I suspect he used a powerful chemical agent to hinder our efforts," Kakashi explained.

"Sure," Pakkun blinked, giving Kakashi a funny look. "In any case, it's harder when ya got everybody's sweat and blood and guts all over the place. This'll take all night!"

"Then you'll scout, all night," Kakashi said, eyeing the dog on his shoulder.

"But it's gonna rain soon? Can't you tell?" Yes, Kakashi could tell. Beside the clouds of smoke rising into the air, the sky had grown considerably dark and icy in the last hour or so. The sun had long since disappeared behind dark clouds heavy with potential rainfall while the growing wind carried a harsh chill that usually accompanied stormy nights. Still, better than common animals, with their acute sense for looming doom and abrupt weather changes, were nin animals, who could put their instincts to a more practical use this evening.

"You ninken are needed now more than ever, Pakkun," Kakashi paused, adding, "what with your superior tracking capabilities…"

"Well," Pakkun beamed, smug. "When you put it like that…"

"I expect you all to work in unison with the Inuzuka clan."

"Fine, fine…"

Pakkun went to move, as though he might jump from the jonin's shoulder, but didn't. He reseated himself, slowly, kneading the paws of his hands into Kakashi's clothes. Although aware of the time and effort Pakkun's task demanded, Kakashi couldn't find it in him to dismiss him just yet. He was quite content, actually, to let the small dog linger for as long as he'd like. Perhaps Pakkun needed a few moment's rest, and Kakashi was happy to allow it, or, perhaps Kakashi wanted for a distraction. After all, the pain coursing through his body had grown considerably less dull, pulsing in rhythm to the beat of his heart. No, it couldn't possibly be that maybe, just maybe, Kakashi felt something itching beneath the surface of his skin, a need for the company or reassurance of a particular other. And what uncertainty, Kakashi wondered, called for such reassurance?

"We can't find him." His smallest ninken's low utterance pulled the Rokudaime from his thoughts. "Iruka…" Pakkun looked to him with big, woeful eyes. "We looked all over the place, and we can't find him."

"…Mm?"

"We asked around. Some captain told us he was assigned to a retrieval team. Well, we checked every team in every village and we still can't find him."

Kakashi felt his chest tighten and his throat clench, momentarily deprived of air.

"Keep looking for him," he managed, calmly. "Please."

"You don't have to ask," Pakkun scoffed, jumping from Kakashi's shoulder. He circled around the ground, energetically, sniffing the air to pick up a scent. "Go clean yourself up," he frowned at the jonin, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

"I think that's the last of them!"

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Let's tag them and bring the others back to the village. There's only so much the medic teams can do here."

Kakashi looked about the village of Sogen once more, where his soldiers worked to clear the battlefield. What threat remained was now in custody, being hauled off to one of Konoha's many detention facilities. There, they would receive the full extent of the Fire Nation's hospitality, who'd been greeted, in turn, with mass calamity and murder. They'd soon share many pleasant hours in Morino Ibiki's company, along with a fleet of his personally trained torture specialists. After a few days held in Konoha's underground dungeons, a few would talk. After a few weeks of the Intelligence Division's mind-probing sessions, where no corner of their mind would go un-examined, more tongues would loosen. After months of Ibiki's torture, however, they would all soon beg for the end.

If not, Konoha had more permanent ways of dealing with their prisoners of war.

The battlefield no longer required Kakashi's brute strength and battle skill. He stood idle, watching as the recovery effort began in Sogen. He imagined the same taking place in the other villages, as Konoha began regrouping and counting its losses. Bodies littered these civilian lands, fallen enemies and comrades alike. Kakashi had seen the fall of fellow shinobi plenty of times and always as an appointed leader. Still, he could not describe his current astonishment. Leading a squad of eight or twelve, a few dozen or a few hundred men to their deaths paled in comparison to leading an entire nation, and the difference was mentally and physically paralyzing.

His predecessors, no doubt, experienced this burden and dealt with it accordingly—if Tsunade's bouts of alcoholism and gambling fits were any indication, but Kakashi soon found that this burden was all too new and couldn't yet process its considerable weight, let alone deal with the accompanying guilt.

Kakashi waited to hear it, the voice in his mind that often served as a source of moral support, but such a voice had fallen, somewhere, on the battlefield.

"Kakashi-sama." It was Koizuma-san breaching his thoughts. "Kakashi-sama?"

Kakashi turned, looking to the commanding officer in hopes that a stern stare might conceal his growing fear. "What is it, Koizuma-san?"

"Sir, I've just been informed by Ibiki-san and Anko-san that recovery is underway in every village. Talks of reconstruction can begin, as soon as tomorrow…" the older man's gruff voice grew faint, drifting in and out of Kakashi's cluttered mind. "Considering the damage, Konoha will need to set up shelters for the villagers of Kimura, Haru, Nishimura, and Sogen, and Tanzaku Quarters... Don't you agree, Kakashi-sama?"

Kakashi walked away.

"Kakashi-sama?"

"I'm returning to the village now," he informed the bemused commanding officer. "Inform Ibiki-san and Anko-san that they are to head recovery procedures and make accommodations for all displaced villagers."

"Yes, sir."

"…I have other matters to attend to."

 

* * *

 

It was raining.

Kakashi was aware of that much, what with the giant storm clouds traveling overhead. They let out a thunderous clap, every now and then, threatening the land below with an electrifying light show. The jonin kept his head down, his gaze set upon the Memorial Stone. He'd been standing there for what felt like hours now. The jonin wasn't sure, as his sense of time had gone unchecked.

"You can't stand here, all night."

It was that voice in his head returning to him, at last, telling Kakashi what he needed to hear, what he already knew to be true.

"Did you hear me?"

"Mmm…" The Hokage considered answering the voice in his mind. "I heard you," he murmured, eventually.

Kakashi heard approaching footsteps, as they slapped against the wet grounds. Though mentally exhausted, he focused on the elements that contributed to the sound: the water pooling over the grass, the muddying dirt, and the balding soles of worn sandals. It wasn't until he felt the solid presence of another beside him did his line of thought change, quick to focus on the body radiating a great deal more heat than his own.

"You're injured," the new arrival said, hesitantly, no doubt seeing the streaks of blood running down his front. They weren't hard to miss, especially given the stark white of his new robes. "…I would insist that you seek medical attention, but I get the feeling you'd only ignore such wishes."

"Maa…" Kakashi shrugged, giving way to the searing pain in his left shoulder. "You'd be surprised."

"Would I?"

"Mm." Kakashi looked up from the monument, staring off into the surrounding forest. "You we're watching me," he said, recalling how short strands of his hair had been standing on end, and he'd sensed the shrouded signature, felt it quite familiar to him.

"…Someone once told me that watching people was relevant to being a shinobi."

"Indeed," Kakashi hummed, and he turned, slowly, greeting the newcomer with a thoughtful glance. "Does this mean you're speaking to me again?"

Iruka shot Kakashi a heated stare, as a flash of lightning lit up his toughened features. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, his tone softening. His eyes wandered to the surrounding grounds as well, as the two fell into momentary silence before the Memorial Stone. "…Elder Mitokado and Lady Utatane are looking for you."

"Did they send you here?"

"No," Iruka said quickly, causing Kakashi a considerable amount of curiosity. He looked towards the chunin, noting the grief upon his face. "I think it's safe to say that I am of no use to them."

Kakashi found he couldn't look away from Iruka. He too was drenched from head to toe, to where his uniform drooped against his frame. His hair was tousled and sunken with water. Kakashi spotted a smudge of smoke and a scrape against the other man's face, as though a flare or an explosive tag had grazed his cheek. A few more glimpses and he noticed the rips in Iruka's flak jacket and the torn fabric of his sleeves and pants. There were very few cuts, nothing life threatening, but the jonin's fixated mind hadn't yet taken that fact into consideration.

"Where were you stationed?" Kakashi asked, desiring conversation.

"…In Nishimura," Iruka replied, his voice barely audible amid the whirling winds. Nevertheless, it relieved Kakashi to hear the chunin speak to him at all. "I was assigned to a retrieval team with Izumo and Kotetsu. We found a few survivors trapped beneath the rubble. I informed my captain and helped pull them out, before I was dismissed—"

"You should have reported to me."

The jonin earned himself a double-take glance of confusion.

"W-what?"

"I said you should have reported to me. I'm the Hokage and you're my assistant. I don't care where you were stationed—you should have dismissed yourself from your team and come directly to me."

"Excuse me?" Iruka's annoyance quickly flared. "Forgive me for not thinking of what you could possibly want from me, at a time like that. I didn't think it was in the job description to go racing around villages, just to appease you."

"Sogen was much safer than Nishimura."

"Are you even listening to me?" Iruka hissed, turning on the jonin. His fiery gaze pierced Kakashi, through a thick sheet of frozen skin. "What would you have needed my presence for, other than to reaffirm your superiority?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Why not?" Iruka snapped.

Kakashi looked to Iruka, both eyes lingering on the chunin. Even in his weakened state, his transplanted Sharingan remained activated, analyzing the world's secrets and imperfections. Upon Iruka's disgruntled brow, however, Kakashi found none. Even the scar across his nose appeared without fault.

Iruka didn't falter under the scrutiny of his Sharingan.

"I believe my reasons far too selfish to admit, as Hokage."

Iruka's glare soon softened, again, and glazed over with inescapable sadness.

Kakashi gazed upon the Memorial Stone once more.

"I think… I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes." Kakashi thought he heard a hint of a smile. "I do."

Another silence grew between them, but the heavy downpour seemed to have drowned out Kakashi's thoughts just as well. At some point, he'd lost sight of the occasional shadow that leapt through the darkened sky. Now he only mustered enough mental strength to focus on the chunin beside him. An air of tranquility enveloped Iruka, despite the many fleeting glances he sent Kakashi's way. The jonin felt his intense stare burn against his injuries, quietly disapproving of his neglect.

When Iruka wasn't staring at him and Kakashi wasn't staring at Iruka, the two were looking upon the Memorial Stone, their thoughts beneath its surface.

"I'm not always out to reaffirm my superiority," Kakashi frowned, analyzing the particulars of Iruka's words.

"Oh no?" Iruka hummed, in objection. "What happened between you and Yamato was standard procedure, then?"

"We've had our disagreements, in the past," Kakashi said, murmuring above another clap of thunder. "Yamato isn't afraid to speak his mind, like you, a quality I greatly admire."

"You like people who don't pander to your every whim," Iruka corrected, his eyes shifting, "but I'm sure that's where our similarities end."

"You and Yamato are very much alike, actually," Kakashi insisted, looking lazily towards the crying sky. "I'm surprised I never saw it before…"

"Because there's nothing to see," Iruka retorted. "You're making connections that don't exist."

"My connections tend to make sense."

"That doesn't make them real, Kakashi."

Another bout of silence.

Kakashi heard the chunin shuffle his gait, the moist grass beneath him bouncing back whenever he lifted his feet. "In any case," Iruka sighed, looking to the ground. "Team 7 has departed for the Hidden Rain, and they're more determined than ever to perform their duties…as a team."

Kakashi shrugged, the pain in the movement multiplying by tenfold.

"A mission of this importance should go to a team that's able to look beyond the affiliations that divide us; a team with no prejudices, made up of people one can trust. You would agree that Team 7 fits the criteria."

Iruka made a fine point, despite the jonin's unwillingness to admit it. He had not overlooked the importance of the mission, simply the unknown variable: the team to perform it. By all rights, the Council could have easily compiled a team filled with some of Konoha's most xenophobic shinobi, in an attempt to sabotage his vision of peace. Instead, they chose Team 7, and, whether that was a sincerely tactful move or a political one, a pulling of rank…Kakashi didn't know.

"I think what's happened today has made an impact on Naruto," Iruka continued, and Kakashi could again hear the faintest, weakest smile pressed against the chunin's lips. "Being out on the field, defending and protecting so many people who could not defend and protect themselves… He remembers what being a shinobi means to him. When I treated him to Ichiraku's, I saw that light return to his eyes, and he understands now that there are far greater struggles than his own…"

"Mm," Kakashi nodded, thoughtlessly. "That's a reality he's lost sight of, in recent months."

"Yes. It is," Iruka whispered, heaving a deep sigh.

He was exhausted, drained from the day's events, and yet…Kakashi saw balance, a silent strength that encompassed the chunin. He wondered what thoughts brought about such peace within the younger man's gaze. Was it Naruto, his beloved charge's newly realized purpose, or was it a silent prayer spoken before the monument, putting his mind at ease? If the latter, Kakashi would like nothing more than to learn his chant.

"…My parents," the chunin spoke, interrupting Kakashi's musings. Iruka's eyes remained fixed on the stone before their feet, affection in his sunken gaze. "When I was a boy, I would come here, every day, and visit them. I used to talk to them," he snorted. "I know, it's strange, but, I'd tell them everything about my day. It was almost like I was speaking to them, again, from across the dinner table."

Iruka reached out, pointing to one side of the rock.

"That's their names, right over there." Kakashi had already gathered as much. He'd seen the name 'Umino' many times, its small print among the thousands, but in what relation to the chunin sensei he had never before questioned. "My father was a rough man, and my mother used to call him on his stubbornness all the time." Iruka laughed, weakly. "She was just as headstrong, though, and fussy, too. When she wasn't on duty, she was at home, scrubbing down the floors and sewing the rips in my clothes. Father always said her meticulousness drove him mad, but I think that's what he loved most about her."

Iruka lowered his hand.

"They died during the Kyuubi attack," he managed, severely quiet. "After the funeral ceremony, I went home and scrubbed the floors. There I was, this bratty kid who hated chores and cleaning but, that night, I cleaned our home from top to bottom, just like my mom would have, while I imagined my dad's good-humored ranting."

Iruka paused, his gaze falling to the soggy ground.

"I was eleven, at the time." The chunin sighed. "I didn't want to come to terms with what had happened, so I went on pretending that they'd never left me. After some time, though, the fact that I was all alone became harder to ignore… It was so quiet."

Kakashi frowned, his mismatched eyes falling on Iruka, taken by a mixture of sympathy and curiosity. "Did you have no other family you could stay with?"

Iruka shook his head.

"I knew no other family but my parents," he explained, "and they hadn't saved up nearly enough money to allow me to live on my own for very long. I would have been out on the streets if not for the Third. Until I could afford to move out, he made it possible for me to live at home." Iruka bowed before the Memorial Stone. "I owe everything to Hiruzen-sama, and I owe everything to my parents. Their last acts on this earth were honorable ones, defending this village and protecting me."

Iruka pulled the lopsided hitai-ate from around his head, folding it in his hands.

"Now I come here, as often as I can, and honor their memories."

Iruka blinked away the rain running down his face, keeping his gaze steady upon the monument.

Kakashi gave the headband in Iruka's hands a curious glance before reaching for his own. He had a new one now, one that came with his new robes, along with a pair of shin guards, fingerless gloves, a black undershirt, mask, and a white under-wrap. His hitai-ate, with the Hidden Leaf symbol engraved into its plate, was the only thing keeping his weathered hair from drooping over his eyesight. Kakashi looked to Iruka one last time, before pulling it from his head. He stared at it, his brow arching, as a flash of lightning shined against its metal plate.

He sensed this was something significant to the younger man; a show of respect, perhaps, and so he too followed suit, wrapping the headband between his fingers. He eyed it, wearily, wondering what of his own rituals he might have carried with him to the memorial sight.

"…I come here quite often, as well, to visit someone who was once very close to me," the jonin heard himself say. He grew stunned. He rarely brought up his visits to the Memorial Stone or his reasons behind them, for that matter. Yet here, with Iruka, the words flowed freely from his lips, as fluid as the water running down his hair. "A former teammate of mine…I believed he had died in the Third Shinobi World War but, alas, the past reemerged to rear its ugly head on the battlefield of the Fourth Shinobi World War. You might have heard of an enemy that once went by the name Tobi."

"Obito," Iruka said, making it apparent to Kakashi that the chunin knew something of his now fallen friend. “He joined forces with us, near the end, didn't he?”

“Yes. He did.”

“What was he like, as you remember him?”

"He was annoying, at first," Kakashi continued. "I didn't appreciate his lack of discipline, either, or how he was chronically tardy and lying all the time."

"Uh, Kakashi…" Iruka fidgeted, his eyes shifting suspiciously over the jonin.

"I know what you're thinking," the jonin sighed, "but I wasn't always like this."

"Did he change you?"

"You could say that he did," Kakashi hummed, "and it was he who first gave me this Sharingan."

Iruka nodded in understanding.

"Him being an Uchiha, of course."

"Yes," Kakashi confirmed. "Of course, but you wouldn't have known it if not for those eyes. He lacked a certain grace about him. He was a melodramatic knucklehead who was too carefree for his own good."

"That also sounds suspiciously familiar."

"Yes," a harsh chuckle escaped Kakashi's throat, noticeably alarming Iruka. "I see a lot of Obito in Naruto and, for all their faults, their shared principles about the shinobi way of life more than make up for them." Kakashi eyed Iruka. "They value friendship, above all else, and the will to protect the ones they love."

A distant stare came over Iruka's furrowed brow, accompanying the subtle biting of his lower lip.

"That's his name, up there." Kakashi reached out, pointing towards the tip of the stone. "He must forgive me," he went on to say, addressing the stone as though Obito himself sat against it, an adult now, smiling despite the damage of later life done to his person. Kakashi's eyes darted Iruka's way, pleased by the small grin spreading against the chunin's lips. "I haven't been visiting as often as I should have been, as of late."

"Why is that, may I ask?" Iruka breathed.

"Maa…"

Kakashi moved his good arm, his right hand lifting to brush droplets of water from the back of his head.

"I often come here, seeking the company of a fallen friend," he sighed, "but the outdoors can be unpredictable and quite…unpleasant, at times." He shrugged, looking to the falling sky. "I like the indoors, preferably a place of peace and comfort." Kakashi then looked to Iruka, again, affectionately. "Even better," he hummed, "if there's someone there whose company I long to keep." Iruka returned the gaze, nervously, unable to maintain it for very long. He cleared his throat and glanced away, his reddening face quickly fading to the biting cold and frosty downpour. Still, the jonin beside him kept a cool and calm demeanor beside him.

"Kakashi…" Iruka bent forward, his hands clenching against his pants. Kakashi looked on, increasingly concerned by how the chunin shielded himself away. Iruka went to speak again, the chaotic wind picking up only a shadow of his normally bold tone. The jonin heard a tremble of fear, saw it in Iruka's submissive body language, and found that he did not care for it one bit. "There's something I need to tell you… I—"

"I know."

Iruka froze, his clenched fists going still against his upper thighs. No blush could withstand this weather, leaving the chunin's cheeks pale with cold dread and a burn unlike anything Kakashi had ever seen before. Kakashi gazed upon him, thoughtfully, Iruka working harder than ever before to look anywhere but in his direction.

"It was you who pushed for Team 7's rotation. You forged my signature and reinstated my team." Kakashi rubbed a battered hand over his stiff neck. “My suspicions were low, I must admit. I thought it was the Council's doing, undermining my authority. It never occurred to me to think you might disagree with Naruto's recent decisions, as well. You coddle him, after all," he spoke plainly.

Iruka swallowed hard, eyes wide, his lip biting now uncontrollable.

"Still," Kakashi went on, "it didn't surprise me, when I realized the truth. It makes sense, actually."

"I should have said something," Iruka blurted out, shakily, as though he'd been holding his breath the entire time. "Oh god…" he lifted his hands to hide his face, shaking his head. "I should have said something," he repeated, whimpering weakly.

Kakashi frowned.

"Admitting the truth would have given the elders a legitimate reason to have you removed from my services," he sighed, looking to the Memorial Stone. "Impersonating a Hokage is a serious offense. Never mind losing you as my assistant, Iruka. They'd strip you of your title as an Academy instructor…you'd lose what matters to you most." Water dripped from the stark crease in his brow. "They would have had you arrested, on the spot, imprisoned, by this hour, pending a sentence of the harshest punishment they could think to get away with."

"They must really hate me." Iruka looked to the ground, dismayed, his hands dropping from his face.

"They don't," Kakashi insisted softly. "They hate that you're not under their control."

"Whose control am I under then?" the chunin retorted, bitterly. "Yours?"

"No," Kakashi said sharply, quite sure of this, "and that bothers them."

"Then what am I?" Iruka spat, glaring at the ground.

"Lucky," Kakashi replied, glancing Iruka's way, "for now. We can only hope that no one on the board suspects enough to even whisper of it in passing…"

"We?" Iruka shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I committed the crime, Kakashi, not you. It's bad enough that I just sat by and let Naruto say those things to you." Another bout of lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating Iruka's absolute shame. "I'm just so angry with myself." He looked to Kakashi, at last, frowning. "Why aren't you yelling at me?"

"Mm?" the lids over Kakashi's eyes lifted in curiosity. "Should I be?" Iruka didn't say, growing silent with more guilt. "I don't think I should," he answered himself, looking to the head protector in his hand. "What you did…it was necessary."

Iruka froze again, his eyes bulging at the jonin.

"B-but you said—"

"Yamato was right. You were right, and I was wrong." Kakashi looked to the head protector in Iruka's hands, as well, as it shook slightly in the other man's grip. "I was aware of my faults and didn't want to admit to them. Team 7's been out of commission for some time, and they have every right to return to duty. As for Naruto," the jonin reached out for the chunin beside him, wrapping his fingers around Iruka's trembling hands. They were cold, unlike the chunin, but tender and bruised.

Iruka bowed his head, acknowledging Kakashi's touch. The jonin held his headband against his own, while pale fingers glided across his clammy skin. Iruka trembled, frozen to the core, only able to stand by and watch as the Hokage turned his hand in his.

"This is what I wanted," Kakashi said, "for him to realize the error of his ways." He closed his hand around Iruka's, cupping the chunin's fingers into a makeshift fist. "...I have faith that Naruto will remember why he worked so hard to become the great shinobi that he is. Even if he never moves on," Kakashi gave the hand in his a gentle squeeze, "he'll understand that he shouldn't lose himself." He looked to Iruka, their sunken glances one and the same.

"I want what's best for Naruto."

"As do I."

The two looked upon the Memorial Stone, holding hands between them. The splashing of heavy rain filled the easy silence, accompanied by a groaning wind and a flickering sky. Kakashi tightened his hold on Iruka, as the atmosphere resounded in another violent roar, not expecting the hand in his to squeeze back. It did. Metal plates clinked together, an insignificant sound, as Iruka's fingertips worked restlessly against the back of his gloved hand.

Kakashi sensed anxiety rack Iruka's racing thoughts, and he stood similarly inflicted.

"Ne, are you as taken by guilt as I am?"

"More guilt than I can bear."

Kakashi lurched forward, suddenly, clutching at his left shoulder.

"Kakashi?"

"It's…nothing," Kakashi grimaced, shutting his eyes against the pain. It was apparent to him now he could no longer ignore the injury he had acquired while on the battlefield. Its numb, pulsing discomfort had, slowly but surely, caught up with the trauma it had inflicted. Kakashi knew how deep it ran, tearing flesh, tissue, muscle, and nerves as it went. More importantly, the injury was in close proximity to his heart, a fact that would have prompted anyone else to seek immediate medical attention. "It's just a graze, nothing more. I'm sure you have a few as well, Iruka."

"You idiot," he heard Iruka hiss and felt the weight of his good arm fall over the chunin's shoulders. "You've probably been here for hours when you should have been at the hospital."

"The hospital has quite a few patients, as it is," Kakashi breathed, leaning up against Iruka's frame. He looked to the chunin, relishing in the warmth brought on by his body heat. Nightfall descended across the clouded sky, the heavy downpour increased in speed, and Kakashi mentally acknowledged that having exposed himself to these elements was a misstep in judgment on his part.

"You could have seen a private medic-nin," Iruka mumbled, looking upon the pained jonin weakly. He reached out, hesitantly, brushing fingers lightly over the bloody and torn front of Kakashi's robes. The jonin stood still, too pained to pull away even if he wanted to. He lifted his chin, noting the distress growing in Iruka's dark gaze. Kakashi would have liked to believe that it caused Iruka some grief, to see him in this state. He hoped it was worry seizing him, worry for him that had the chunin keeping him on his feet. "If it's the hospital you're trying to avoid…"

Kakashi groaned in agony, his head falling forward. The arm wrapped around his torso tightened its grip.

"Never mind," Iruka whispered. The chunin gave the Memorial Stone one last glance, and Kakashi managed the same, muttering a soft farewell into the damp air. Iruka looked to Kakashi, whose wet strands of silver hair obscured what was visible of his face, smiling sadly. "Let's go home."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. ^_^


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi and Iruka come to an understanding, of sorts, both seizing opportunity of a mutual heartache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Some heated moments down the end of the chapter, so, if that gets you all hot and bothered in a way you don't particularly care for...stop reading near the end? I don't know...there's no "work safe" alternative. Sorry!

Kakashi looked around, eyeing the familiarity of Iruka's living room.

Iruka approached, exiting his kitchen, with a wooden trey in his hands. The jonin took note of it, disinterested, having seen its contents many times before.

"There," Iruka grumbled, setting it on his desk chair. He'd originally pulled it out for Kakashi to sit on but the jonin refused to sit down. Iruka pulled it up, holding his waist with his free hand, all the while eyeing Kakashi disapprovingly. "I really wish you would sit down."

"Ne…" Kakashi whined, tilting his head. "I can stand."

"You shouldn't be on your feet," Iruka growled, eyeing the Rokudaime from head to toe. "You got caught in an explosion. Didn't you?"

"Maybe," Kakashi shrugged indifferently. "It's difficult to recall, at the moment."

"You did," Iruka was quick to declare, wearing his signature hot-tempered scowl. "Even a chunin like me, who rarely goes out on the field, can see that the marks on your clothes were caused by enemy fire." Iruka leaned forward to organize what was on the trey. He continued, sighing, "You've suffered a considerable amount of trauma, Kakashi. There's a reason why hospital patients are subjected to bed rest."

"But I'm not in a hospital, Iruka."

"I wish you were!" Iruka snapped, tossing the towel in his hand into what appeared to be a bowl of water. The sloshing filled the stiff silence, threatening to spill over the basin's rim. If it had, the water could have seeped into any number of medical supplies the chunin possessed. Kakashi looked down, eyeing the utensils Iruka spent a good few minutes sterilizing under a hot tap. They glistened now, beneath the soft gold hue of Iruka's apartment, seemingly harmless in a sinister way.

"You don't want me here," Kakashi said slowly.

"I didn't say that," Iruka shot back, his face growing flustered. Blood rushed to the surface of his cheeks, the familiar sight easing the anxiety in the pit of Kakashi's stomach. "You should be in a hospital, Kakashi," Iruka said quietly. "I don't know why you didn't see a medic team while in Sogen, but a medic-nin could have healed you in seconds," Iruka fixed a pitiful stare on the jonin, "and a hospital staff can treat your injuries far better than I can."

"Mm," Kakashi blinked, staring straight into Iruka's worry-stricken eyes, "and yet I chose to come here, instead."

"You didn't choose to come here," Iruka scoffed, crossing his arms. "I had to drag you away from the Memorial Stone." Heated eyes fell against Kakashi's broad shoulders, stopping cold on the damp and bloody mess that was his upper chest. "You would have stayed there, all night, had I not taken you away."

"So, you brought me here," Kakashi hummed, standing taller. "Instead of taking me to the hospital, where you believe I would receive better treatment, you took me home."

"To honor your wishes, not to hear you throw it back in my face," Iruka frowned, hurt and angered.

Kakashi stopped.

"You're right," he said, looking down. "That was wrong of me."

Iruka's anger fell away, his eyes fluttering with uncertainty.

Kakashi sensed Iruka's pause but, instead, focused his attention to the gauze and bandage wraps laid out on the trey. That's when he saw sudden movement in his peripheral vision, Iruka's hands reaching up and stopping in midair.

"…I need to remove your robes, Kakashi," Iruka said, quietly, as the two shared a long glance. "You'll only irritate your wound, if you do it yourself." Kakashi nodded his understanding, at ease when Iruka pressed the palms of his hands against his chest. "I didn't want to alarm you," fingers peeled at the opening of his robes, "because I know that, given what's happened today, your mind is still on the field."

"You're not my enemy, Iruka," the jonin murmured, as Iruka's fingers gingerly pulled his robes from his shoulders. He could feel the fabric of his wardrobe tug at the lacerated flesh of his injuries, especially where the enemy's kunai had slashed him open. The surface of his wound felt numb, but the blade of the kunai had run so deep that Kakashi could feel the torn tissue and severed nerves cry out in agony, drowning in a pool of clotted blood. He was used to this, however, and had learned, long ago, how to compose himself…how to keep the bile from rising in his throat as he fought the urge to retch and collapse. "You're not a threat to me."

Kakashi didn't know what would have happened, had Iruka not showed up. He might have lasted a few hours more, hovering over the Memorial Stone, knowing that a very painful, very agonizing journey home was in store for him. Iruka's comparatively healthier chakra level enabled the chunin to carry them both across the rooftops, racing at speeds the jonin would not have been capable of even considering let alone performing himself.

"Yes, I know," Iruka frowned, pulling at Kakashi's arms with care. "A mere chunin sensei isn't much of a threat to you." His careful handling did not match the fire in his eyes, as he dragged the robes from Kakashi's body. Then he stepped away to fold them over his arms, aggressively, glaring at their dirty, sodden state.

Kakashi looked on, glaring as well. "I think you're misconstruing my words."

"How so?" Iruka snapped, looking anywhere but at the jonin standing in his living room. He returned to his task, running his hands along the sides of Kakashi's under-wrap. Iruka stood close, clearly despite himself, until Kakashi could smell a faint mixture of earth and rainwater in the thick locks of Iruka's hair. "I already know you think I'm weak," Iruka muttered. Kakashi closed his eye, Iruka's words falling against him in heated pockets of air.

"Mm…" the jonin hummed, his eye falling thoughtfully upon the chunin. “Compared to me, you are weaker," he replied, as busy hands loosened the ties from his frame. Iruka looked on, concentrating his hurt expression on removing Kakashi's undergarment in the same manner as his robes. His eyes darted nervously toward the thick patch of blood around Kakashi's wound, staining the white cloth. "However," Kakashi continued, suppressing a hiss when Iruka peeled the piece of clothing from the injured area, "there are plenty of other ninja weaker than myself, and there are those who are stronger than myself."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Iruka moved away, tossing the robes to his couch. He turned to Kakashi again, keeping his gaze low.

"There are those who are weaker than you, Iruka." Iruka's eyes wandered up at that, finding Kakashi's half-lidded stare. Warm hands brushed against Kakashi's skin, pulling his under-wrap from his now bare arms. "If I've ever said that you're weaker than me, it's not to say that you couldn't pose a threat to me." Iruka gathered the under-wrap in his hands, looking to the jonin expectantly.

"What are you trying to tell me, Kakashi," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"I'm here, in your home, wounded," Kakashi began, eyeing Iruka closely. "I have enough chakra to function, as any civilian would, but not enough to defend myself in any way that is effective. It's not often that I allow others to undress me." Iruka blinked, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I think it's safe to say that I'm the only patient the hospital staff has to sedate in order to remove my clothes. If they don't," Kakashi reached between them, taking the soggy wrap from Iruka's clutch, "a few innocent orderlies are bound to get hurt." He tossed the wrap to the floor. "But I wouldn't hurt you, Iruka."

"…Are you saying you feel vulnerable?"

"I'm admitting that I don't," he corrected, his eye crinkling, "because I trust you."

Iruka's eyes grew wide with surprise before turning away, guiltily.

"You shouldn't," he huffed, kneeling to the floor. "It's because of me that Naruto said those things to you." He reached past Kakashi's bare feet, picking up the bloodied wrap the jonin had so carelessly discarded on his carpeted floors. Iruka grabbed the soiled fabric and gripped it tightly, fighting off tremors of shame. "I let you take the blame for something that I did."

Iruka climbed to his feet, throwing the wrap against his couch. Kakashi looked to him, pained by the tone in Iruka's voice, the defeat in the chunin's eyes. Iruka's hair had long since fallen out of place, framing the sides of his face like dark curtains. The jonin stood beside his actions, when his fingers reached out to tuck the fallen strands back behind Iruka's ears. The chunin froze, only briefly, before relaxing against his touch.

"Thanks," Iruka mumbled.

"My pleasure," Kakashi said.

He didn't think Iruka's flushed face could grow any redder, but it was clear that it could, and brown eyes avoided his grey one, honing in on the injured area of his body. The black skin of his sleeveless undershirt had grown even darker, where blood had seeped through. Iruka reached out, tentatively, tracing cautious fingers over the length of the wound.

"Can you feel that?" he spoke softly, as though a harsher tone might injure Kakashi further.

"No," Kakashi said, looking down. He watched sun kissed fingertips press gently against the torn flesh, growing troubled by the lack of sensation. "The area's gone numb."

"Let's hope it's not infected," Iruka said with furrowed brow, his fingers tracing up Kakashi's clavicle. "I can feel a break in the bone, Kakashi," he breathed, bewildered. His eyes shot up, questioning the jonin with a look of fright. "This feels excruciating...! You're the Hokage, for goodness sake! A medic team should have come to your aid!" he spat harshly.

"They did," Kakashi said, "but I waved them off."

"Why?"

"Because," Kakashi reached over, joining Iruka's hand with his own, "in Sogen alone, there were those in far worse shape than I." He pressed his fingers against the area of trauma, still feeling only deadened pressure. "I told them to instead assist those whose wounds were so severe that the pain had rendered them unconscious."

"Kakashi, you are severely wounded," Iruka scolded, "and because you were still conscious is not an acceptable reason to deny treatment!"

"A team that's not focusing its time on the Hokage is a team healing and saving others who are in desperate need of attention."

"Do you want to be in pain?" The anger in Iruka's eyes pierced him to the core. Kakashi didn't answer, not that it seemed to matter. Iruka returned his attention to the wound, his gaze saddening with every passing second.

"Maa…" Kakashi exhaled deeply, a spark igniting within his chest. "If I didn't know any better, Iruka, I'd say you were worried about me."

"Of course I'm worried about you," Iruka scoffed, glaring up at him. The spark in Kakashi's chest exploded then, sending waves of electricity coursing through his battered body. "One of us has to be."

“ _It's a shock to the system, not a friendly invitation.”_

Iruka dropped his hand from Kakashi's chest and looked towards the trey, ignoring the jonin's unwavering stare. He let his hand ghost over the utensils, reaching for a bottle of antiseptic. "No," he muttered to himself, scratching the tip of his nose thoughtfully. "I can't do that yet," he muttered, looking between Kakashi's injury and the tools at his disposal. "I'm concerned about your undershirt getting in the way," he admitted, frowning. "Of course, you can keep it on," he added quickly. "I'll just have to find a way to work around it…ah!"

Iruka picked up a pair of scissors, beaming. He looked to Kakashi, an idea shimmering in his eyes.

"I can cut around the area, from here," the chunin pointed a few inches below the wound, "to here, just under where your mask starts." He smiled, hesitantly, searching Kakashi's eye for consent. "Is that alright?"

"Well, it doesn't look like I'll be wearing this shirt again, any time soon," the jonin sighed, looking away miserably.

Iruka nodded, hearing confirmation. He held his scissors out, in one hand, and tugged at Kakashi's torn shirt with the other.

"However," Kakashi caught Iruka's wrist in a loose grip, stopping him mid-cut. The chunin shot him a puzzled glance, one of which he was determined to solve. "There's a simpler way of doing this."

"Oh yeah?" Iruka asked, lowering his scissor hand. "What way is that?"

Kakashi released Iruka, reaching down for the hem of his shirt. He ignored the stabbing ache brought on by his movements.

"Ack!" Iruka stumbled back, panicking. "What are you doing? I-I said you didn't have to take it off, Kakashi! Don—!"

With one swift tug, Kakashi pulled the sleeveless shirt and mask from over his shoulders. The throbbing pain of moving his left arm nearly caused him to collapse, but he managed to stand. A pleasant air instantly hit his naked torso, and he grew warmer now than while wearing his damp clothes. Iruka froze then turned fretful, his eyes widening and darting away when Kakashi lifted the mask from his face. The chunin made sure that his eyes never traveled farther than the base of the older man's neck, as he glanced nervously back at the jonin.

"You idiot!" Iruka barked, glaring at Kakashi's well-defined chest. "I was trying to make it so you wouldn't have to take off your mask!"

"Is that what you were trying to do?" the jonin breathed, his low baritone no longer muffled behind the fabric of his mask. "Why, I had no idea," he hummed, tossing his sleeveless shirt and mask to the couch. Meanwhile, Iruka had set his scissors back down against the trey and was now fuming with silent fury. Kakashi wiped a hand over his mouth, rubbing at the slight stubble on his chin, as he eyed the chunin. "I hope this isn't going to be a problem for you."

"Of course it isn't going to be a problem for me," Iruka repeated, snatching up the bottle of antiseptic. "Don't worry," he then picked up the cleansing towel, soaking it in water. "I won't look at your face," he said.

Kakashi's face fell.

"This is better, actually," Iruka added, pouring the antiseptic against the towel. "I won't have to waste time, cutting away your clothes, and cleaning it will be easier." He set the antiseptic back down against the trey. "Now…" Iruka's voice fell, his eyes wandering over the expanse of Kakashi's upper body. Kakashi followed Iruka's gaze, his eyes falling against his own pale flesh.

"Iruka," the jonin muttered, wanting to fill the growing silence. "Most people in your position would jump at the opportunity to look at my face."

"Well, I'm not most people," Iruka breathed, stepping closer. Kakashi swallowed hard, eyeing Iruka with some apprehension when the younger man reached out to trail a hand against his roughened skin. His muscles seized beneath Iruka's wandering fingers but eventually relaxed to the chunin's touch. "These scars…" Iruka frowned.

"I'm sure you have a few as well," Kakashi replied, forcefully, now more aware of the fingertips examining his scarred body.

"I do," Iruka admitted, his face flushing red, "but very few like these. Like this one," Iruka gasped, running two fingers over the thin line running diagonally over his ribcage.

"A run-in with the Akatsuki," Kakashi explained, staring passed Iruka's eyes.

Iruka nodded. "What about this one?" he asked, pressing the whole of his hand over the jagged scar stretching horizontally over his midsection. Kakashi's breath hitched, his cold skin melting beneath Iruka's caress.

"The last war," he said, weakly, his half-lidded gaze struggling to stay open. Then the sensation was gone, the pleasant pressure disappearing along with it.

Iruka nodded again, slowly, his brow creasing. He looked up, focusing on the scar tissue surrounding Kakashi's most recent injury.

Kakashi kept his eye focused on the kitchen in the distance. It was dark, with the lights turned off, barely illuminated by the two glowing lamps in the living room. Kakashi studied the outline of the stove and the cabinets, refusing to look down at Iruka's horror-stricken face. "Kakashi…" a hand reached up, pressing gently against his sternum.

"That's another wound from Akatsuki," Kakashi said quickly, "a triple-bladed scythe."

"No." Iruka shook his head. "That's here," he pointed towards the three diagonal scars situated close by the newly torn flesh. "I'm talking about here," Iruka whispered, the pads of his fingers circling the center of Kakashi's chest. Fear enveloped Iruka, his eyes widening more than ever before, as his hand curled against the hardened tissue. "This is from…"

"It's nothing—"

"No, it's not!" Iruka hissed, mortified, glaring at Kakashi's chest. "I remember what happened," he trailed away, his gaze falling.

"It's not wor—"

"You got this because of me," the chunin whispered,guiltily, looking to the floor. "You risked your life, and Sasuke—"

"IRUKA." Iruka fell silent, under the command of Kakashi's voice. The jonin reached up, wrapping his fingers around Iruka's fist. "That's enough," he said, lowering the hand in his. "What's done is done, so please…" The plea fell from his unmasked lips before he could register the word.

Iruka's eyes fell just short of Kakashi's face, brimming with grief. "I'm sorry, Kakashi…"

"You shouldn't apologize—"

"I know, because it makes me look weak."

"No," Kakashi shook his head, eyeing the scar across Iruka's face, "because you have nothing to apologize for." The hand in his went lax, much to the jonin's relief. Kakashi couldn't stand by and watch Iruka drive himself into such a state. He would rather the source of Iruka's grief be him than to see the chunin turn on himself.

"…I should clean the wound now," Iruka said, raising the towel before Kakashi's chest. Kakashi watched, expectantly, but the chunin paused to study the disturbed skin. His trained eyes prompted Kakashi to look down as well, but his muscled pec hindered him from seeing the full length of his injury. He could feel it, however, ending a few inches away from his left nipple. "This might sting a bit," Iruka warned.

"Treating wounds the old-fashion way is never a pleasant experience," Kakashi hummed.

Kakashi didn't brace himself as Iruka did, the wet towel in his hand creeping steadily towards his chest. A smile tugged at the corners of Kakashi's lips, as he acknowledged Iruka's obvious nervousness.

"I'm sure you know what you're doing."

"Of course I know what I'm doing," Iruka snapped weakly, rubbing the cloth over the bloodstained skin surrounding the wound. "You don't give impulsive, inexperienced pre-genin dangerous weapons to practice with and not know a thing or two about medical aid. I am certified, ya know..." The chunin frowned, his gaze locked in on Kakashi's injury. "Actually, I'm just…" the towel against Kakashi's chest froze. “It's different."

“In what way, Iruka?" Kakashi asked.

Iruka turned towards the trey, plunging the bloodied towel into the bowl of water. It quickly took on a pinkish hue.

"Iruka…?"

"It's just different," Iruka said, sighing. He turned back to clean the wound. "I've never had to treat a Hokage's injury before."

"There's a first time for everything. Wouldn't you agree?"

Kakashi let out a pleasant hum, almost like a purr, despite the dull ache in his chest. Ignoring the pain was easy, when he could amuse himself with the faint scarlet growing that much darker against Iruka's skin. To compound his enjoyment, Kakashi reached out again, brushing a hand over the chunin's warm cheek to run his fingers through tendrils of brown hair. Iruka sulked, blinking feverishly, but continued to concentrate on his task. Kakashi gazed upon Iruka, with a warmth unknown to him.

"Iruka…?"

The towel in Iruka's hand slipped, dipping into the jagged hole in Kakashi's chest. The jonin felt a sudden searing pain, as a mixture of antiseptic and what he thought was water traveled down into his open wound.

"You shouldn't say such meaningless things, Kakashi," Iruka said tightly, ignoring the jonin's guttural grunt.

"Nee…That's not water," Kakashi growled, his brow furrowing with annoyance.

"No," Iruka replied, dabbing the towel over the wound now. Kakashi looked down again, eyeing Iruka's fast work. Already, the area around the torn flesh was clear of blood, leaving a clear outline of the depth and width of his injury. "It's a combination of water and a solvent that, when mixed together, creates an antibacterial soap that promotes faster healing." The chunin scrubbed into the wound as gently as possible, no longer hindered by a sense of nervousness.

"I see…" Kakashi looked on, the vicious stinging growing dull. A few seconds more, and Kakashi could hardly feel the sting at all, until it was as numb as the outer surface of his wound. "The hospital supplies this to medic-nin who perform on team-based assignments," he sighed, having recognized the familiar sensation. Kakashi eyed Iruka with curiosity.

"The hospital supplies the Academy with the same solvents," Iruka mumbled quickly, dropping the towel back into the bowl. He picked it up again, ringing it out. "In any case," he pressed the towel back over the wound, placing pressure against the area, "when I'm done cleaning this out, I'll start stitching it together. The least I can do is close the wound so it can heal, and I can make sure that scarring is minimal."

"I understand," Kakashi said.

"Good," Iruka sniffed, "then if you understand, you'll know what I'm going to say next."

"Maa," Kakashi whined. "I'd rather you not…"

"Kakashi, there's nothing I can do about a broken bone but reset it. Promise me you'll see a healer, at least."

"Iruka…"

"Promise me," Iruka stopped again. His eyes grew stern, looking to Kakashi's chest as if it were the jonin's face. "Please."

Kakashi stared back, nodding obediently. "…I promise."

"Thank you," Iruka said, smiling weakly. He let out a deep sigh, his tense shoulders dropping with ease. "Now, let's get you patched up."

It was a few minutes more before Iruka finished cleaning out the wound. He was insistent on ensuring a clean healing process, making certain to dig deep into the damaged area. Kakashi winced and cringed his way through the ordeal, having suffered through far greater agony being a small comfort. Clearly, his body had grown accustom to being healed instantly and had forgotten what it felt like to suffer through manual treatment.

When Iruka held him firm, at the shoulder, and put force into resetting his clavicle, Kakashi's eyes glazed over, as he thought to never admit to having nearly fainted in that moment.

Kakashi gazed around, rather than watch the chunin put together a surgical suture. Iruka's apartment was as he remembered, down to the number of dishes sitting in the drying rack and the shogi set left on the coffee table. Blankets sat folded on the other end of the couch, while piles of paperwork sat stacked on Iruka's desk. The differences were small, like the two pairs of sandals placed against the front door, the two headbands folded together on the kitchen counter, lying beside Iruka's flak jacket.

Yes, everything was as Kakashi recalled from the night before, except…

"Take's feeling well, I hope," Kakashi said, looking to the couch. That's where he'd seen the boy last, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The two had played a few shogi games, where Take demonstrated advanced skill in strategy and deductive reasoning, but the pre-genin genius still couldn't win against Kakashi.

"Yes," Iruka answered, a small grin forming against his lips. "His fever was gone, by last night."

"That's good," Kakashi nodded, frowning still. "Where is he, if I may ask?"

"You may," Iruka said, but the smile on his face fell fast. The chunin looked down, fiddling with the suture in his hand. "I took him home."

"You took him home? Why?"

Iruka reached up, false confusion on his face. "Why would I take someone to their home? I don't know… Is that strange?"

"He didn't want to go home," Kakashi clarified.

"And I didn't want him to go home," Iruka frowned, "but it's not like I have a choice. I'm not his caretaker."

"No," Kakashi barked, his tone falling low. "That woman Take spoke of, the one who doesn't care for him. She's his caretaker."

"So you do care," Iruka said, gazing upon the jonin's injury, "about Take."

"I…"

Kakashi's first instinct was to deny, negate Iruka for the sake of argument. Instead, he reconsidered what Iruka seemed to believe so adamantly, thinking back to when he and Take first met. The boy tried to run him through with a kunai that day. Still, his thoughts progressed to the afternoons spent training the boy, when whatever differences they shared, whatever misgivings felt for each other, fell away. He recalled last night and the night before, where the boy was still a brat but one whose company he'd grown to quite enjoy.

Kakashi thought back to a restless Take and how he stayed up, watching over the feverish boy as he slept.

"I do," he admitted at last, earning Iruka's astonishment. "I do care. He's a promising student…" Iruka eyed him closely. "He's a good kid." Take wasn't just a pre-genin genius Kakashi knew from Iruka's class. He was the fever-ridden idiot determined to win their seventh round of shogi, the scruffy, scrawny, silver haired brat who wanted to know more about the Chidori. He was the boy Kakashi helped to sit as he fed him soup.

"He is a good kid," Iruka said, smiling sadly.

"…And if he's in a place he doesn't want to be, wouldn't you agree that something should be done to correct this arrangement?"

"I do," Iruka frowned, "but there's not much I can do at this point, Kakashi. He's welcomed here, at any time, and he can come back whenever he likes…but he can't stay." Iruka raised the suture to Kakashi's chest, using his other hand to pinch the skin together. "This will hurt," he said.

"I know," Kakashi replied, looking down.

It didn't hurt initially, as the needle punctured through a few layers of tissue. Kakashi also knew that the solvent Iruka used served as a mild numbing agent. For the first row of stitching, a simple zigzag design, Kakashi felt only minor discomfort.

"That was fast," he hummed, encouragingly.

"Thanks. I've had plenty of practice with some of my students," Iruka explained, starting a new stitch. "It's come to my understanding that the faster it's done, the less they fear what's being done to them."

"Ne…" Kakashi bellyached, looking to the tan hand braced against his better shoulder. "I assure you, I have no intentions of shying away."

"Better safe than sorry," Iruka sighed playfully, picking up a second suture. "You're nearly as bad as some of my youngest students are sometimes, Kakashi." Iruka began to sew in a second row of thread, in an opposite zigzag, running it a bit deeper.

"I'm just as unpredictable," Kakashi murmured, in a lazy drawl.

"That you are," Iruka breathed, a hint of levity in his tone. "When it comes to keeping me on my toes, you have the lead on my students." Kakashi chuckled, weakly, his lips spreading into a smile that such an honorable chunin would never see. "Done."

"Mm?" Kakashi looked from the chunin to the stitching that ran down the left side of his chest. "You're finished?" he asked. The jonin expected to feel pain for a wound so deep, but he barely felt a pinch.

"That's it," Iruka said, scratching the bridge of his nose. "I thought that might have been a bit more unpleasant, but I suppose the numbing agent did the trick," he frowned.

Kakashi's brow rose against his hairline, as he eyed the chunin suspiciously. "Don't look so disappointed, Iruka."

"No, I…!" Iruka shook his head, scowling. "Just shut up and stand still, so I can wrap this."

Kakashi produced another chuckle, looking down again to marvel at Iruka's speedy work. The stitching was flawless, didn't tug at the skin… Kakashi would believe Iruka was a medic-nin himself, if he didn't know otherwise.

Iruka set the second suture down on the trey, extending his reach for a small glass jar.

"I'm going to put this on first," he said, referring to the jar in his hand. He twisted the top open and dipped two fingers into its jelly-like contents. "It's just an antibiotic. I use it when the students get cuts and scrapes."

"I'm sure it has other uses," Kakashi hummed, staring off thoughtfully.

"What was that?" Iruka snapped, his not so curious glance an intimidating one.

"Eh…" Kakashi's eye darted back, nervously, his hand rubbing at the nape of his neck. "Nothing," he added, hoping to save himself from the chunin's wrath. "It's a line, from Icha Icha Tactics."

"Is that so…" Iruka's brow twitched with annoyance, his ointment covered fingers running up and down the length of his stitch work. "Try not to feed me lines from those…books," he sneered, making sure to cover the entire area.

"Maa…It's a shame you're not a fan, Iruka," Kakashi said, looking over his shoulder. He nodded towards the bookshelves against the chunin's wall. "You've got quite a lot of books yourself."

"Yes, and a few of yours as well," Iruka grumbled, and Kakashi did see a good number of his Icha Icha books lining the lowest shelves. "Except, most of my books are academic, not smut."

The jonin looked back, appalled. "It's not just smut," he said, defending his beloved novel series. "They're stories, based roughly around real-life experiences. They're quite humorous as well."

"It's still erotica, Kakashi, and surely that's the point," Iruka huffed, twisting the cap back onto his small jar of ointment. "No matter what tales and life experiences Jiraiya-sama managed to weave through, they're still stories and subject matters that cater to…a particular appetite," Iruka finished, his face now the color of a red bean.

"Ne…" Kakashi gave a coy smile, in the face of Iruka's embarrassment. "It's usually the closet perverts who protest the loudest," he said dryly.

"I am not a closet pervert!" Iruka growled, blushing madly, "and excuse me for not wanting to wear a preference for porn like a badge of honor!"

Kakashi thought Iruka was holding his breath, his face was so red, and feared the chunin might possibly collapse from lack of oxygen. "Okay, okay," he chuckled. He reached out, rubbing a hand over Iruka's shoulder, hoping to soothe the chunin before he passed out. "You are a model citizen, Iruka; the most dignified prude Konohagakure has to offer."

Iruka settled down, but his eyes flashed angrily at the word 'prude'.

"Well, I guess that's better than being a downright pervert," he mumbled, setting the ointment down against the trey. His hand moved over, picking up two large, thick rectangular patches of gauze. "But I'm not a prude."

"No?" Iruka shook his head, raising the gauze to Kakashi's chest. He held it against the swollen skin, with one hand, while reaching down for some adhesive bandage dressings. Kakashi watched the chunin struggle to keep the gauze from falling and grab for the bandage dressings at the same time. "You really should have picked them up, simultaneously—"

Iruka's face shot up, a fiery glare piercing Kakashi in the chest.

"Then again, your way is quite sufficient," Kakashi beamed, and a bead of sweat dropped from his temple.

"That's what I thought," Iruka said, through gritted teeth, unraveling the dressings. "You're going to have to lift your arm." Kakashi obeyed, lifting the useless weight that was his left arm. He watched as Iruka placed the start of the bandage just below his armpit. "The wound is spaced out pretty badly, but I think we can get away with dressing just this shoulder."

"I would prefer that," Kakashi said. "It'll be easier to redress, when I have to."

Iruka nodded in agreement, pulling the wrap over the jonin's shoulder.

The two fell into a comfortable silence, what with Iruka's concentration focused solely on securing the wrap. They needed to be tight, Kakashi knew, but not too tight that they irritated the wound or put on any unnecessary pressure. Alternatively, the wrappings couldn't be so loose as to invite possible unraveling. Kakashi thought back to how Iruka had to unwrap his body tape, as the jonin was unable to do it himself. It was then that he first declined to sit down, too proud, apparently, to show any more weakness in front of the younger man.

"Thank you," the jonin said.

"For what?" Iruka asked, smoothing out the bandages with a press of his fingers.

"I didn't thank you, for helping me out of my wraps."

"Oh," Iruka voiced, blinking. "Well, with the state you're in…" Iruka swallowed, his eyes brimming with grief. "Let's just say I don't expect much from you, tonight. I know anyone else in your condition would have collapsed from shock alone by now. I'm surprised you're still coherent, actually."

Kakashi's eye grew wide. "I'm full of surprises," he said.

"I know," Iruka smirked, his desolate stare far from humored. "…I want to admit something, Kakashi, but I don't want you to dismiss it as just me worrying too much or me misplacing my concerns."

"I'm listening, Iruka," Kakashi said, unable to tear gaze from the chunin or ears from his softened words. "I won't dismiss what you have to say."

Iruka's shoulders fell in a lengthy breath, as he resumed his wrapping at a slower pace.

"I feared for you," the other man admitted, his voice growing bold. "I wasn't at first. Usually, the Hokage doesn't go into battles unless it's absolutely necessary. Then word started spreading that you were headed for Sogen, and I…" Iruka shook his head, laughing pitifully. "I think I panicked. I couldn't stop thinking about how this would be your first major crisis, as Hokage, and I worried you might bite off more than you can chew. To prove something to the elders."

"Iruka."

The name fell from his lips with tremendous weight, pulling Kakashi forward. Arms brushed up against him, as their owner continued to dress his wound at a steady pace. The jonin realized then just how much Iruka was doing for him, treating him…taking care of him. When Iruka reached over again, his fingers gliding over his now bandaged wound, Kakashi felt both exhilaration and anticipation tug at his heartstrings.

Iruka ripped a clean part and placed what was left of the bandage wrap back on the trey. His gaze returned to look upon his finished work but instead darted towards the Anbu tattoo forever imprinted on Kakashi's skin. Kakashi saw in Iruka's eyes an acceptance for the mark, for the burden he carried, rather than fear, doubt, or a need to look away.

"I know," Iruka whispered, fixated on Kakashi's tattoo. "I'm just—"

"You had reason to fear," Kakashi said. He reached up, pressing fingers against his bandaged chest. "My actions were somewhat impulsive, as I could not say with certainty what we would be up against. Still, I put myself on the battlefield, hoping that my presence could be of some use." Kakashi then reached out to wrap a hand around a navy-blue sleeve, covering the Konoha emblem, as a callous thumb rubbed against Iruka's shoulder. "The elders upset me, yes, but they did not provoke me."

Iruka nodded, his hand rising to meet the one resting against his shoulder. Warm, tan fingers interlocked with cold, pale ones, warming the cold, pale ones if only slightly.

"If there's anything to prove to the elders, it's that my loyalty to my friends," Kakashi squeezed Iruka's arm, firmly, "and the people I care about is more important to me than whatever they have to say."

Iruka nodded, his gaze drifting, relaxed against the jonin's touch. Kakashi searched his eyes, however, wanting to see that understanding look him in the eye.

"…I had the ninken search for you." Almost, Kakashi thought, studying Iruka's reaction. The chunin gasped, his mouth gaping, and he almost looked up. "I pulled them from official duty, actually, and told them to look for you instead." Iruka's hand fell from his shoulder.

Kakashi's did the same, reluctantly so.

"In any case, they'll be gone all night. I've ordered them to search for missing persons and pick up on the enemy's scent. Their task will take some time, given that the weather will be somewhat of a hindrance."

"I did wonder why they weren't here," Iruka said, finally. "Though, I couldn't see any of them waiting out a disaster like this. They would want to help, wouldn't they?"

"Yes," Kakashi's eye looked away, cynically. "They're not as useless as they look." A genuine laugh escaped Iruka's lungs, causing Kakashi to smile. He glanced down at his dressed wound, before setting eye on Iruka once more. "Have you finished the task of treating my wound?"

"Yes," Iruka confirmed, smiling.

"Good," Kakashi said, his eye crinkling, "then how about we have some tea, then?"

"No," Iruka said quickly, shaking his head. "You lie down, and I'll serve you some tea." The chunin sighed, sensing the jonin's disappointment. "You need to get off your feet, Kakashi…take some of the strain off your body."

"I feel fine now," Kakashi argued, believing Iruka simply couldn't get over having almost seen him collapse earlier that night. "I'm not nauseous or disoriented."

"It doesn't matter," Iruka huffed, scolding him. "You need a good night's rest." He looked to his couch, disapprovingly. "You can sleep in my bed, tonight, and I'll take the couch," he decided, crossing his arms.

"That won't be necessary," Kakashi replied. The prospect of sleeping in a bed, Iruka's bed, threatened to color his every thought, but he fought against such a provocative invitation. "The night is young and I don't intend on sleeping just yet."

"Stop being a stubborn ass," Iruka chided, glaring at the lump in Kakashi's throat, "and do what's best for you. You need rest."

"It can wait," Kakashi said, growing steadily annoyed. He didn't want to sleep, didn't want to waste what time he shared with Iruka. He couldn't foresee when the chunin might not speak to him or try to avoid him next. He spent the last week stealing glances and catching Iruka in intermittent conversations, but he longed for more. He ached for the time they shared, and no amount of pain could compare to that ache.

"You're in pain."

"You've stitched the wound, and now the pain is of minor concern."

"No, not that pain. This…" Iruka reached forward. "This pain," he said, pressing the palm of his hand over Kakashi's heart. The jonin stared at it, mesmerized, Iruka's fingers rising and falling with his every inhale and exhale. "You're hurting inside, Kakashi, and you might want to ignore it, but this is something I can't overlook." Iruka frowned, his gaze lowering to the floor. "…I know, I haven't been a very good friend these past few days, and for selfish reasons, but I'm here for you now." He looked up, a fleeting hope glistening in his eyes. "I once asked you if you'd tell me when something was troubling you. Do you remember?"

Kakashi nodded.

"I told you that being the Hokage didn't mean you had to go it alone," Iruka urged, tapping lightly at Kakashi's chest. "It didn't surprise me to find you standing at the Memorial Stone, in the cold, and I knew why you didn't want to go to the hospital… You were punishing yourself, choosing solitude rather than accepting the consequences of your decisions. The hospital is filled with civilians and shinobi right now. As Hokage, you're responsible for them, and I know that's a heavy burden to bear." Iruka's fingers traced over the electric burn imprinted on Kakashi's skin. "What happened on the battlefield and what happened at the committee hearing, between you and Naruto…"

Iruka shook the memory from mind, a disgruntled noise escaping him.

"You want to shield yourself away from what you're feeling, because you think it makes you weak," he lowered his hand, looking to where it once rested, "but it doesn't."

Iruka turned towards his trey, quickly busying himself with putting things in order.

"I-I'm probably not making any sense right now, but it would put me at ease to see you get some rest, Kakashi," he said, Kakashi's unresponsiveness making him nervous. He expected the jonin to taunt him or berate him, any moment now, for his nonsensical rambling…

Kakashi hunched forward, his chin falling against his chest.

"Kakashi…?" Iruka's gaze snapped up, his eyes growing wide. "Kakashi!"

For the second time that night, Iruka felt his heart constrict in fear. It happened first when Kakashi almost collapsed at the Memorial Stone. This time, Kakashi stood but unresponsively so, his head bobbing forward lifelessly. Iruka couldn't see his face, due to the unruly mane of silver hair obscuring his sight, but he searched the jonin's sunken frame, desperate for an answer.

"Kakashi, what's wrong?" He reached out for him, hoping to prevent an impending fall. Still, Kakashi's head simply dangled, his shoulders slouching within the chunin's grasp. "What's happening?" he pleaded frantically, reaching up to hold the jonin's head in his hands. "Say someth– Mmph!"

An unsuspecting whimper escaped his throat, as Kakashi's lips pressed against his own.

The jonin was quick to react, lifting his head into the chunin's touch. As Iruka stood, frozen in shock, gawking at his unmasked face, Kakashi snaked his hardened arms around the chunin's body, clutching at the flimsy blue fabric that covered his back.

Iruka's brow strained, his eyes squeezing shut, but he couldn't erase the sight from his mind. The jaw in his grasp was narrow, like the slightness of Kakashi's pointed nose and the slim form of his cheeks. The jagged scar reaching vertically across Kakashi's left eye socket reached down his face, stopping where the bridge of his nose began. Then there was nothing left but a beauty mark above soft, pink-tinted, lips, thin, moist, and enveloping his in a powerful kiss.

"Ahh…!" Iruka's shock had yet to subside, unable to believe what was happening. He stumbled back and pushed away, but his lips betrayed him, clinging to Kakashi's in quick, desperate kisses. The grip around him loosened, and Iruka soon felt eager hands explore the length of his back. He sighed, eyes fluttering, his muffled cries drowning in the heat of their embrace.

Kakashi felt a heavy groan escape him, as he wrestled with the retreating chunin. He followed Iruka's uneven steps backwards, darting forward to meet every chaste kiss. Iruka's uncertainty came out in weak sighs, provoking a ravenous growl from the depths of his lungs. He relished in the firm, muscled curves beneath his touch, the tan hands clinging to his face before falling against his chest. His injured body shouted against his movements, but he ignored its sharp protests. He was enamored with Iruka, and this pain could not extinguish that yearning in the pit of his stomach.

The two parted for air, their lips hovering inches from one another, just as Iruka felt his back collide with the kitchen counter.

He panted heavily, lowering his gaze onto a bandaged chest and inhaling as much air as his lungs could contain. Kakashi leaned forward, resting his forehead against the chunin's temple, as heated breaths mingled together. Iruka closed his eyes and swallowed hard, the lips ghosting over his skin igniting shocks up and down his spine. Uncertainty took hold of him, questioning how the events of the past few minutes could have possibly turned into this. One moment he was panicking over Kakashi's wellbeing, and the next he felt the jonin taking hold of him, revealing his face to him, kissing him.

Iruka thought he might scream he was so angered and confused.

Iruka's shoulders began to rise and fall at a fast pace, doubling in time to his panted breathing. He thought he might be hyperventilating and could only cling to the hard surface of Kakashi's skin. He recalled trying to push this solid form away, a few moments ago, as the suddenness of it all took him by surprise. Iruka couldn't face Kakashi now, couldn't look him in the eye. Not that he would, because the jonin certainly hadn't meant to show him his face.

Iruka shook his head, the stinging behind his eyes almost unbearable.

"Kakashi…"

"I don't want to choose solitude." Kakashi lifted a hand to Iruka's face, brushing his thumb against the chunin's brow. His lidded gaze watched the chunin, eyeing the rise and fall of his shoulders, his trembling lips, made wet and raw red, and the dark lashes that flickered over his sight. He felt his own heartbeat pulse within his fingertips, as they traced lightly over Iruka's parted mouth. "I would rather choose you, Iruka."

The Rokudaime heard his words, knew that they were true, and so held Iruka even tighter.

The chunin had been right. Kakashi would have stood before the Memorial Stone all night, alone, grieving in his own pitiful way. He would have gone on, regaling on considerably better days, when he didn't have the safety of Konohagakure and its sister villages playing so heavily on his conscience. He would have wallowed in self-pity, leaving his weary thoughts to drown him under an already frigid downpour.

Until tonight, Kakashi had never ignored an injury to where he couldn't seek medical attention on his own. The jonin didn't know what he would have done had Iruka not rescued him from himself. Kakashi found that the chunin's company was all he could ever want for and now, as the familiar warmth of Iruka's mere presence seeped into his skin, dulling his pain, he knew that he had wanted for more of him.

Kakashi received his wish, when a warm hand reached around his neck and pulled him down. He dipped low, eagerly, capturing the chunin in another bruising kiss. He closed his eye, brow furrowed, gripping the chunin by the waist. He felt another hand lift from his chest, accompanying the other, raking through his hair with needy fingers. Iruka's advances were strong, intense, provoking from the jonin a need to feel more of him. His own hands began to travel downwards, bunching up the hem of Iruka's shirt. The chunin let out a sigh that trembled against their lips, as his lithe fingers dipped beneath the navy blue fabric.

"K-Kakashi…!" His name escaped Iruka in a broken gasp, the chunin's half-lidded gaze shuddering close. Their mouths remained locked in a seamless kiss, however, plunging together in desperation and desire. Kakashi let his hands dance over hidden flesh, finding the expanse of skin smooth and rough, soft and toned. The chunin's physique matched his nature, much to Kakashi's appreciation. "Ah, we…"

"Mm," Kakashi moaned in response, his hands gliding further upward.

"We can't—"

"Yes, we can."

"You need—"

"You."

"I—" Iruka gasped, his breath hitched against their open mouths.

The exchange came to a halt. Kakashi soon sent Iruka reeling as he rubbed his fingers against the chunin's nipples. Their mouths returned to each other, obsessed with the sensation, as Kakashi explored a body he could not yet see. The jonin wanted to see, however. He released Iruka, reaching farther up to pull what was quickly becoming a hindrance from the chunin's body.

"Kakashi…" Kakashi wanted to see Iruka, the scars the chunin spoke of. He tugged at the fabric, prompting the other to lift his arms. A few seconds more and, between fervent kisses, Kakashi had the turtleneck pulled from Iruka's body.

Could he afford the chakra lost, Kakashi would have opened his Sharingan eye. As it was, his normal eye would have to do, consuming the dark, naked torso now exposed to him. The jonin thought to lunge at Iruka, attack his skin, when he heard something metallic rustle around the chunin's neck. His gaze traveled upward, from the thin wisps of hair trailing down from Iruka's navel, the faint, brown lines spared across his firm abdomen, the lean muscles of his chest and arms until, at last, his eye caught sight of something he never expected to find.

Kakashi stared, transfixed.

Iruka jerked nervously, wrapping his arms around his stomach, looking anywhere but at the jonin studying his half-naked form.

"No," Kakashi said, blinking. He carefully pulled restless arms away from such magnificence, gliding his hands up Iruka's dark torso. His fingers soon met with two steel plates. "My dog tags," he breathed, lidded-eye widening. He rubbed fondly at their bumpy surfaces. "I was looking for these."

Iruka looked away, horrified, reaching up to touch tentatively at the chain around his neck. His eyes then shot upward, frantically, meeting Kakashi's gaze in silent plea. "I-I'm sorry," he swallowed nervously, panic gripping him. "You left them on the sink one day and, I just, I just put them on and I wasn't thinking and I just wanted…" his voice faltered, not knowing what to say to make up for taking the jonin's beloved tags. “I'm sor—"

Kakashi gathered Iruka in his arms, crushing his lips against his. Iruka made a whimpering noise, when the jonin found his mouth once more, parting trembling lips with a probing tongue. He gripped Iruka closer, brushing the whole of their bodies together, feeling the heat and longing course through their beings. Everything traveled downward, like an avalanche falling from the pits of their stomach….pooling in their groins.

Iruka felt it too, rubbing against Kakashi. That's when he moved, beyond himself, pushing the two away from the kitchen counter. He felt hands clutching his lower back, dipping below his waistline, and let out an animalistic groan. He held Kakashi close, guiding him, delighting in the tongue moving against his own. He breached the walls of Kakashi's mouth, returning the deep kiss with great passion. Iruka's own lidded gaze danced between open and close, as he guided Kakashi from his living room.

The two walked, knowing and not knowing where this would lead.

They did not share further words, as words were beyond them at this point.

The sound of heavy rain and violent winds stormed outside, pelting Iruka's apartment with muffled thuds, but Kakashi and Iruka had long since grown deaf to the sound. Kakashi, injured, slightly damp and in pain, felt everything fall away when Iruka gripped him by the hair. Iruka, tired, worried and anxious, allowed his racing thoughts to focus on this moment, as the two moved as one. With eyes closed and mouths open, there was nothing to see and everything to feel. Their legs never stopped, brushing against each other in subtle stumbles. There were walls the two pressed each other up against, stealing deep, long kisses from each other.

Then Kakashi met with a solid surface, one that gave way with little pressure. A dark room suddenly surrounded them, illuminated only by the bright, metallic clouds that shined through a wide window. The back of Kakashi's legs pressed up against a soft surface, and he readily lowered himself. Iruka followed suit, leaning forward in his descent. They parted lips, briefly, to lie down together. Kakashi opened his eye, staring at the ceiling of Iruka's bedroom, before his gaze closed in a shudder of pleasure. Iruka had his feverish lips pressed against his face, his jaw and, finally, down the length of his neck.

Kakashi groaned, hands roaming Iruka's body. There was weight on top of him, legs on either side of him, and he reached out, hands gliding down the chunin's thighs. He pushed Iruka forward, against him, until the evidence of their desire collided with breathtaking friction.

Iruka cried out, lowering his face within the nook of Kakashi's neck. There was a spark, every time their arousal brushed against the confines of their clothes, rubbing together. Kakashi's head reeled back, a drawn out sigh escaping him when heated breaths turned into wet lips and a tongue that lapped against his neck. He gazed down with heavy eyes, meeting with the locks of brown hair that had fallen from place. Iruka traveled down, leaving open mouth kisses against his skin, eventually meeting with the wrappings around his shoulder. He kissed them as well, lowering down to press his lips lightly against his bandaged wound.

Kakashi whimpered at such a sight, reaching up to hold Iruka's face in his hands. The chunin looked up, lips lingering for one last kiss, before traveling upwards. Kakashi leaned forward, capturing Iruka's lips in a hungry embrace as he lowered himself against the jonin once more. Kakashi's fingers teased the chunin's waistline, tugging at his pants. There was a hint of hesitation within his slow movements, as though hoping to avoid detection.

With a sigh, Iruka rolled onto his mattress, undoing the ties of his pants...discarding of all other clothes. He couldn't be bothered with them, not when the jonin beside him reached out to him, ghosting over his jaw with feather-light touches and nibbling fervently against his ear. Iruka pulled Kakashi against him, eliciting a moan from the jonin. His hands moved down, edging over the hem of Kakashi's pants, before he pulled them down as well. Their lips met again, tongues entwined, and their bodies did the same. Iruka tugged and tugged, a part of the jonin springing forth from confinement, as what remained of the Hokage's attire pooled at the jonin's legs.

Kakashi kicked at his clothes, until they disappeared, somewhere, deep into the night. The air was far from cold, but his naked body demanded the warmth, the embrace of the other, and so he rolled over, trapping Iruka beneath him. Their bodies melded together, fitting like a puzzle, their aroused states rubbing in deliciously slow friction. Groans, moans, soft gasps and silent cries filled the air, mixing with the heat of their skin. With one hand, Kakashi glided his fingers through Iruka's hair, the other one reaching down to push Iruka's legs apart.

The chunin let out a low moan, his back arching into Kakashi's steady thrust. The jonin repeated the action, his pelvis pressed against Iruka's, his skin rubbing against him. The friction multiplied and his body pulsed, aching for impending release. Iruka lifted his legs, pressing them against the man above him, and met every thrust with one of his own. His hardened member twitched, burning with need, rubbing restlessly against Kakashi's rigged member. A flash of light danced against his eyelids, when he wrapped his arms around the jonin's shoulders, panting heavily against him. Kakashi reached between them once more.

A hand wrapped itself around Iruka's member, a callous thumb rubbing over its weeping head.

"Ah-ahh!" Iruka cried out, again, clutching Kakashi close. Kakashi's touch shocked and overwhelmed him, stroking down the base and up the length of him. His eyes snapped shut, and he could no longer focus on the movements of his lips. They simply moved, hungrily, against those of the other. He freed a hand from around Kakashi's head and reached down as well, meeting with Kakashi's aching member. He gripped it, causing the jonin to shudder, as he quickly rubbed the wet, milky substance dripping from its tip.

"Haa," Kakashi hissed, thrusting into Iruka's hand. He lowered his mouth, sucking at the chunin's collarbone, his cheek brushing against the cool steel of his dog tags. He pumped Iruka in time with his thrusts, and Iruka did the same, the two driving harder, faster, thrusting and grinding, clutching and gripping, until cold perspiration seeped from their burning skin, complementing their passionate cries. Pressure built up inside of them, within their mutual task of relieving each other.

Then, at last, Kakashi and Iruka seized, their bodies releasing simultaneously. Hands held each other tight as they surrendered to that powerful feeling, as the realms of pain and pure ecstasy combined into one.

Kakashi collapsed against Iruka, too weak to hold himself up. His breath came in labored pants, much like those escaping Iruka in short breaths of air. His eye opened from its lidded state, studying Iruka and his spent face. The chunin suffered through aftershocks of pleasure, and he felt them ripple against him, causing another shudder to escape from his lips.

Iruka opened his eyes, chest falling, his fingers dancing lazily against Kakashi's back.

Kakashi pulled up, planting his lips against the chunin's, and the two shared a lingering kiss. It was gentle, weak, and lasted longer than any prior embrace. Then Kakashi's face disappeared, burying itself against a dark shoulder.

Iruka stared at his ceiling, frowning, lowering his lips against a crop of silver hair. He pulled his hand from between them, tracing up Kakashi's chiseled frame to hold his bandaged shoulder from behind. Heated breaths heaved against him, escaping their owner in abrupt bouts of release. Iruka kissed the top of Kakashi's head again and left his lips lingering, his eyes closing on their own accord. When Kakashi trembled, when a hollow ache suffocated the jonin and tore him apart from the inside out, Iruka was there, lying awake to hold him close and never let go.

Iruka brushed his lips against sweaty strands of silver hair, well into the night, wishing to stifle the pain that escaped from the depths of Kakashi's soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. More on the horizon! ^_^


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath. Shinobi life continues... Kakashi and Iruka continue to establish themselves, in their respective roles, to Konohagakure and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So yeah... this chapter was suppose to go out TUESDAY/WEDNESDAY (sorry to all those reviewers I lied to!), but I ended up rewriting half of it and writing in more scenes, because I just didn't like where it ended the first time around and it was utter trash. Please, enjoy this version. I'm much more tolerant of this version.

** TEN YEARS AGO **

A man kissed by the sun, with a mane of spiky, white-silver hair pouring from his head and a peaceful smile on his face, looked to the skies as he held himself out to piss off the side of a muddy road.

“I have wisdom to impart with you, my oh so speechlessly captivated companion.”

The companion he spoke of said nothing in reply, his attention directed downward from the boulder where he sat.

“Take some advice, and heed my words carefully,” the other man tried again, shaking himself before tucking himself back into his kimono pants, “or would you rather read my words, instead?”

“...I'd much rather read them than listen to them, Jiraiya-san.”

“He speaks!” Jiraiya proclaimed, jumping back, with knees bent, to point an accusing finger at the far less animated individual. “I was beginning to think you'd become mute.”

“Within the time of our departure from Konoha to now?”

“Yes, Kakashi, from then to now,” Jiraiya lamented, shaking his head. “Not even your father was this quiet, and he was certainly the most no-nonsense shinobi I've ever had the honor of lightening up.”

Kakashi looked to Jiraiya then, a hollow smile in his one visible eye. “I am not my father.”

“Well, that much is true.”

“What's this advice you would like to impart, Jiraiya-san?”

Jiraiya tugged at the hem of his pants, approaching the younger man with a perceptive zeal.

“Never fall in love, Kakashi.”

Kakashi didn't flinch, gave no evidence of humanity, upon hearing these words. Jiraiya expected nothing more, the young jonin elite having proved, much earlier in their journey, far removed from the eccentricities of the perverted hermit. The former Anbu, as Sandaime had prescribed him, carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, the reasons why remaining unknown to the renown sage. What he did know was that Hatake Kakashi was everything he expected from the son of the White Fang and then some, as a former student of Minato, his own late student, a highly capable and skilled shinobi that, despite all his successes, had agreed to bog down his thriving career by following around an aging man hellbent on redemption.

“I fear you might have taken to drink too harshly, upon departure from Nadeshiko.”

“It's because of Nadeshiko I take too harshly to drink, Kakashi,” Jiraiya laughed, stopping where Kakashi sat. He looked down, his eyes peering over the open book in the young man's hands. “All those women, all that beauty...and they're determined to marry it all away?! It's an injustice.”

“It's their tradition, Jiraiya-san,” Kakashi reasoned and, despite the legendary Sannin's insistent interruptions, he turned a page. “I did my research, studied your missions file. In your travels, you have ventured into Nadeshiko on many occasion, for reasons that have often gone undocumented. To complain about the village's customs is a moot point, considering you're no doubt already familiar with their matrilineal coupling practices.”

“Yeah, but that doesn't make me any less sad about it,” Jiraiya said, a childish pout on his face. It reminded Kakashi of his late sensei, for a brief moment in time, a man who also once shared a flare for naive emotionalism.

“Shall I continue reading?”

“You gonna have your nose in a book the whole trip?”

“Can you blame me? This story is riveting,” Kakashi exhaled, with sudden and shameless enthusiasm, “besides, do you need an editor or not?”

“You can't be both a fan of my work and the editor!”

“I graduated at the top of my class, at the Academy. I'm as proficient in language art as anyone you couldn't afford to hire.”

“Smart-ass geniuses...you're all the same.”

“May I continue reading, uninterrupted, please?”

“If it so pleases you, but don't go easy on me! Any and all mistakes; I want my ego devastated, my confidence as a writer completely shattered, to become the most beloved novelist in the world.”

“...Duly noted.”

Jiraiya collapsed against the other side of the boulder, in a huff, and watched as Kakashi continued down a page of what he hoped to become another popular installment in a bestseller series. The life of a nomadic shinobi was tiring, dangerous, and odd-job assignments here and there only paid so much before the bar tabs and escort services tapped him dry. The long journey to uncover his former teammate turned traitor to the Hidden Leaf, Orochimaru, had become an arduous and arguably listless endeavor.

When he'd returned to a relay site near the outskirts of Konohagakure, it did not surprise him to see Hiruzen-sama's personal messenger bird awaiting him with the news that a tracking team would be at his beckon call, to aid him in his pursuit. What did surprise him, however, was the figure waiting alongside Hiruzen-sama's personal messenger bird, the one that now elected to join him in his pursuit of Orochimaru. The son of the White Fang, of all people, apparently shared unfinished business with his fellow Sannin legend.

“How far off do you think his camp's distance is from Nadeshiko?” Jiraiya asked, unable to help himself. To his relief, his persistently standoffish but often agreeable companion did not punish him with more silence.

“Mm... Given their taking to the markets of Nadeshiko, I'd estimate their hideout isn't too far away. I imagine their reason for not outstaying their welcome is similar to your own for not wanting to stay in the village.”

“Oh, but my reason has a name,” Jiraiya chuckled, darkly, envisioning the voluptuous brunette of his woes with hateful affection. “Inoue Ayaka...that woman is determined to see my hand in marriage, I'm just that sought after.”

“Of course.”

“She's a stunning woman, a worthy opponent, and boy did I fall hard for her. Ayaka was partly the inspiration for the first book, after all.”

“Yet, considering your eager departure from anywhere within proximity of the village proper, I take it you did not seek to defeat her and win her hand in marriage?”

“Kami no!” Jiraiya cried out, tears of laughter pouring from his eyes, parallel to the red lines already tattooed down his face. “I almost did, though, because something as devastating as falling in love leads to insanity.”

“I have loved a great deal, Jiraiya-san,” Kakashi declared, turning another page.

Jiraiya shook his head in disagreement but, being back-to-back, the younger man could not see his objection.

“I'm not talking about the love of family, of a student and their mentor, a bond shared between friends or an obligation to love in honor of the dead. I mean a love that breaks you down only to build you back up again, intensifying your strengths and exposing your weaknesses, so that that love might strike you, when you're at your most vulnerable, and know you'd never surrender without a fight.”

“You make it sound like a clash between powerful foes.”

“I can think of nothing more devastating as a clash between powerful foes than that of lovers,” Jiraiya grimaced, a disgruntled shiver racking his entire being. “Being in love feels like dying, a violent pummeling of critical hits to the mind, body, and soul, to the heart that swells with ache, until the very sight of that love seizes breath and only they can breathe new life into your lungs. It's happily dying by their hands and trusting they'd happily die, too, rather than deal you that fatal blow, and knowing the two of you will never feel more alive than when you're dying together.”

Kakashi turned his head, catching the back of Jiraiya's in the corner of his eye.

“It's making each other bleed before mending each other's wounds,” the older man finished.

Kakashi turned back, staring blankly into the distance that was to be their main route.

“...I don't believe I have loved in such a way, after all.”

“I didn't think so,” Jiraiya asserted, dejection in his tone, “but you will, one day. One day you'll fall in love and want to settle down and I highly advise against it.”

“Why is that, Jiraiya-san?”

“We're shinobi, Kakashi, are we not? Are our life expectancy not short enough?”

Jiraiya stood, stretching toward the heavens, and rounded on Kakashi. The younger man had a complacency about him, shrouding the inner turmoil within, and it had been Jiraiya's initial assumption to believe it the symptom of love woes, given the jonin's age and cool demeanor. Yet, watching him now, he doubted the younger man had even dedicated enough thought process to much of anything outside the binding of his paperback manuscript of the latest Icha Icha.

“Alright then, my biggest fan.”

“Appreciator of fine art.”

“Of course you are...where are we headed?”

“Do you not know?” Kakashi asked, looking up, his bewilderment enough to finally pull his face from the pages of the book.

“Of course I don't,” Jiraiya decried, offended by the assumption that he should always be so responsible and know everything. He'd been playing it by ear, more or less, before Kakashi and his meticulously orderly mind offered to take on the task of planning ahead. “What's the point of having a tagalong if I still have to do all the work? In any case, you're the one with the map.”

Kakashi simply stared at him.

“Where to next?”

“There's a camp on the peninsula territory, just south of the Land of Whirlpools, where shinobi citizens of the Hidden Mist and bordering villages have sought refuge from the current rule of Yagura.”

“So you've heard?” Jiraiya exhaled, heaving out a lengthy sigh. “I'm surprised news of such events have reached Konoha's ears, even if no one's willing to listen.”

“I listened,” Kakashi replied. “In any case, there's a brothel on the outskirts of the inner district that doubles as a bed and breakfast for shinobi in need of discretion.”

“Great lead in, kid,” Jiraiya huffed, weeping with joy. “A B&B brothel!”

“If that is your consideration, then so be it,” Kakashi said, smiling.

Jiraiya gave Kakashi a sordid look, riddled with horror and devastation and bewilderment, looking to the heavens above and questioning Kami why, why a virile young man like Kakashi did not take away the beauty of the words escaping from behind that ridiculous mask of his.

“Are you dead, man?”

“I'm merely prioritizing our mission, Jiraiya-san. We should be mindful and limit our interaction with the camp and the conflict at hand.”

“Since you're aware of what's going on, are you sympathetic or merely indifferent?”

“Neither. The war has ended, and our treaty with the Land of Water ensures peace moving forward. As shinobi of Konohagakure, we must uphold this allegiance and honor the ruling establishment of Kirigakure.”

“You cannot be serious,” Jiraiya managed, his heart sinking, the thrilling prospect of pleasures to surely come instantly subdued by the damn near ordinance recited by Kakashi. “There's talk of the Mizukage culling the population, instilling fear within his own people, and your stance is some nonsense on upholding the status quo?”

“I'm keeping Konoha's interest in mind.”

“As oppose to doing the right thing?”

“I fail to see that there is any right thing to do, in this situation.”

Jiraiya pressed Kakashi with a judgmental stare but he shut his trap, because the boy was right. In this, there was nothing they could do that would be of any help, only more damaging, because the tentative alliance between the Hidden Leaf and the Hidden Mist, both still raw from the war, demanded a cease and desist at best and joint force at worse in all internal conflicts and domestic affairs.

Jiraiya had heard a lot of things about the growing legend of Copy Nin Kakashi, since returning from his many travels, and my, had he grown from the scrawny kid he once knew as Sakumo's boy. In that one visible eye that remained his own he harbored no malice, only clarity, distressing Jiraiya even more, and he only hoped that the severity of Kakashi's outlook stemmed from a shared understanding of what they could be tasked to undertake if the Hidden Mist obtained knowledge of their whereabouts.

“The road ahead, then?” Jiraiya asked, a rhetorical statement, but Kakashi stood and offered a firm nod.

“Ma...There's a ferry service at the southern coast that will take us through the island channel and leave us a discreet distance from the territory.”

“Of course,” Jiraiya hummed, “I think I know the one you speak of, run by an old guy with red hair and one tooth.”

“I've never met the owning operator, Jiraiya-san,” Kakashi said, pulling a map from one of the pockets of his grey flak jacket. “Though, if you know him, this might make haggling a price for services rendered a viable option.”

“I wouldn't count on it,” Jiraiya griped, taking the lead. “That geezer is petty, senile, stingy, and I still owe him for an old bar tab.”

Jiraiya troubled his shoulders, a grumble escaping him. The pack on his back felt weighted down by the depths of his own thoughts, as the elite jonin traveling the road alongside him purposely lagged behind by a few strides.

“Would you really do it?” Jiraiya said, after a long spell of silence, the two of them heading toward the setting sun. “If ordered, Kakashi, would you?”

Though he couldn't see him, Jiraiya felt the younger man posed to respond with absolute certainty.

“It is not our position to determine the autonomy of these people nor my place to sympathize with their cause. They are defectors of Kirigakure and as such, if called upon to expunge their treacherous numbers, I would do so without hesitation.”

Jiraiya looked to Kakashi then and knew that he would.

“Forget what I said, earlier,” Jiraiya eased out slowly, chuckling uneasily, as he turned back to the road ahead. “Forget what I said about falling in love.”

“You said it was like dying, Jiraiya-san.”

“...I don't think you're capable of dying, Kakashi.”

 

* * *

 

**PRESENT DAY **

The night sky betrayed the promise of more stormy weather to bear, and the wise words once spoken to him by a dead man now struck him like lightning, thundered in his mind just as loudly as the clouds above his head.

As the rain had long since stopped and picked up again, only to die out before dawn, so had the pain of his injury come and gone and returned. It remained, however, carefully wrapped and painstakingly so by the chunin sensei still fast asleep beneath him.

Kakashi had taken to sitting on the rooftop of Iruka's apartment, not an unusual venture for him, a combination of body ache and insomnia forcing him from the warmth of the other man's bed, the framing of his embrace, the toll of the chunin's exhaustion having manifested in a catatonic cling to Kakashi's person. Iruka's near comatose state allowed him a reluctant yet easy escape, as Kakashi rummaged through dresser drawers to find the extra uniform sets he never bothered to take back after all the times Iruka had cleaned them.

Even then, Kakashi should have known.

In his mind's eye, an image of Iruka sleeping, his tousled head of hair pressed between two pillows, the rise and fall of his naked torso as the in and out of his breathing drew attention to the dog tags—Kakashi's dog tags— still fastened around his neck, consumed Kakashi's thoughts as he watched a commotion of fellow shinobi move throughout the night and well into morning. Only plans of what to do next, what curfew to enforce to ensure the safety of his people, what provisions to administer so that daily life in Konohagakure and the surrounding villages thrived in spite of recent attempts to ensure otherwise, shattered such an image into tiny shards of his recollection, flashes of last night, where the want in Iruka's eyes, the heat of his skin, every breath, every gasp, every tremble of his body, and every moan that escaped Iruka returned to the forefront of Kakashi's mind twofold.

Then there was this, the words of Jiraiya breaking the silence of daybreak, taunting Kakashi with the reality of his predicament.

Because here, with Iruka, he felt as though he was dying and yet never more alive, and being alive never felt so real before, so tangible, something that could just as easily be taken away from him.

“Hokage-sama.”

The subordinate to touch down against the surface of Iruka's rooftop wore an Anbu mask, Goat, a member of the security detail sicced on him by the likes of Aoba and Anko.

“Goat,” Kakashi greeted, in tune to the Anbu member's approaching footsteps.

“Sir, Morino-san and Mitarashi-san request a debriefing at the Hokage Tower.”

“Mm.”

Kakashi hesitated to go, to stray any farther from Iruka, a brief but foreign anxiety at the thought of leaving the vicinity of Iruka's apartment detaining him. He felt for the chunin's chakra signature, a beacon of life pulsating from within the confines of his humble dwelling, and found some semblance of true peace for the longest time of knowing him, the serenity of Iruka's slumber a sense of warmth and comfort in its own right, something Kakashi wanted nothing more than to prolong, to protect.

“Hokage-sama?”

“Right.”

 

* * *

 

Iruka woke with a start. How could he not, when what should have been early morning darkness hit him with the glaring sunlight of late afternoon? Or was there another reason, other than his bedroom window being left wide open, as he turned in bed to discover the absence of another?

As the initial panic subsided so did Iruka, settling back into bed. The Academy was closed for the week, due to the proximity of the recent attack on Konoha, so Iruka didn't trouble himself with the fear of having slept in too late only to wind up leaving an unsuspecting, last-minute substitute instructor at the mercy of his rambunctious students. Thank Kami, no...and Iruka could rest easy knowing that his students were all accounted for, the Academy having served as the emergency site for both civilians and shinobi youth during the attack. In fact, lying back down, Iruka couldn't remember the last time he'd felt more at ease, his mind at peace, his heart mended, the feel of his own skin a comforting embrace, the touch of someone else a lingering sensation that urged him back into a realm of deep slumber. Iruka buried his head back into his pillows, despite the call to action and duty and chores and obligations his mind, body, and soul had grown so accustom to, and closed his eyes.

He smiled.

_“I would rather choose you, Iruka.”_

He frowned.

Iruka opened his eyes again, now incapable of sleeping, and couldn't help the blush that flushed his face a deep crimson. A sudden heat overcame him, the chill filtering in from outside be damned, as the very thought of last night made him perspire in distress. It wasn't his actions last night that now caused him mild embarrassment, he knew, being a man with desires and the occasional resoluteness to see them met, but the accomplice in his actions that rendered Iruka a coward in his own bed, sinking further beneath the sheet that covered his naked body. The fact that he was naked was bad enough, but knowing whose piercing grey stare could no doubt now map out every inch of his body in graphic detail caused him to squirm in further discomfort, like the prude everyone thought he was.

In reality, Iruka did not exist as the embodiment of some virtuous monk but was, in fact, human. As a school teacher, he suffered through the worst displays of pubescent hormonal outbursts, halting indecent activity between horny upperclassman on a daily basis. Sex did not scare him, despite the infrequency of sexual partners not involving himself, and so any act of sexual indulgence left him spent with satisfaction.

It just so happened that, in this case, the matter of who, who it was that had reduced him to this satiated mess, who it was that had held him close, desperate to satisfy the same want, the same longing, the feel of the other's lips revealed in impassioned embraces, as the two shared themselves, the very essence of their beings, before falling asleep in each other's arms...that terrified Iruka.

Worse still, eyeing the room of his own condemnation, Iruka saw no sign of Kakashi.

Iruka reached for his neck and took hold of the dog tags that remained there, still, kneading them over in a tight clasp. He considered nothing but the events of last night, with a heavy heart, his mind obsessing over what could only be Kakashi's attitude toward it all. Not even in battle was a person more vulnerable, Iruka believed, as when engaged in the throes of passion, to reveal all of oneself in the hopes of being received in kind, accepted... He knew Kakashi to be a very private person, despite or even in spite of being insufferably invasive himself. What happened last night, the memory as clear as day to Iruka, felt like a wound that no amount of dressing could hide, the depth of it wracking Kakashi's body and Iruka's in kind, as the Rokudaime of Konohagakure, leader of the Hidden Leaf, wept in his arms.

Iruka turned on his side, sighing pitifully, when the sight of movement caught his eyes. He reached out for it, a small note paper on his nightstand, as it danced to the tune of the cold wind blowing in from his bedroom window. The sun was but a temporary voyeur to the day's events, as Iruka unveiled the piece of paper beneath the darkening light of an overcast sky.

The paper read simply, barely legible:

**Debriefing at Hokage Tower – Kakashi**

That terribly familiar chicken scratch, words so poorly written and so inconsiderately so that Iruka felt a familiar urge to demand that it be rewritten until it could at least rival that of his youngest students, was undoubtedly Kakashi's writing. Except there appeared to be indents, like small canine teeth, at the junction of folded creases. Coupled with the wide open window, no doubt forgotten in haste, and Iruka could reasonably assume the other man had sent one of the ninken to leave him this note.

Then the context of the note itself sent Iruka into a gradual before all-to-sudden whirlwind of panic once more.

“Debriefing?!” Iruka yelped, propelling himself up from his mattress. He looked around, frantically, as though the structure of his orderly life would suddenly reappear before him intact. Instead, Iruka clamored out of bed with haste, the cold sending shivers up his spine as he expertly shut his window and closed the blinds without exposing himself to the world. He searched around, in a kind of stupendous stupor, the collage of clothing discarded the night before still splayed out on the bedroom floor. It took a moment to suppress flashes of the night before, even longer to settle his hardening erection as it threatened to complicate an already astoundingly complicated morning, er, afternoon. “Why didn't he wake me?”

Iruka rushed around the room, ransacking his drawers for a uniform set of many fully prepped uniforms, because days like this, where he might wake well into the afternoon and, say, miss what was most certainly an important meeting between the Hokage and his fellows in command, after a crucial attack on the Hidden Leaf's neighboring villages, and Iruka just happened to be said Hokage's assistant, no less...such days had long since taught him the importance of preparedness.

Ignoring the disheveled state of his dresser drawers and the fact that it looked as though someone had already rummaged through them, Iruka fought to put on his uniform and gear in record time. Never mind a shower, oh no! Iruka had just enough wits about him to brush his teeth and wash his face, pull his hair back into an almost presentable ponytail, and snatch his hitai-ate off some surface or another before he departed, the messy state of his apartment an unwanted forethought that only compounded the stress of having to hightail it to work.

 

 

When he arrived at the Hokage's office, with a sizable pile of status reports and a clipboard in hand, two Anbu guards stopped him at the double doors.

“I'm the Hokage's assistant,” Iruka clarified, moving to pass by the guards. They stopped him, once more, with a barrier of their bodies.

“Officials only, Iruka-sensei, a safety precaution as requested by the Elders,” said a puffin-masked man.

“Due to recent events, we've been instructed to not take any chances,” said a goat-masked woman.

“I'm not an official, I know,” Iruka started, already somewhat agitated, “but I'm meant to be in that debriefing.”

“If that were the case you'd already be in there,” Puffin rebuffed, his tone seemingly final.

Iruka stepped back, beside himself in annoyance, but there wasn't much he could do. The seconds passed by, of him standing around, uselessly, guarded from the office he spent more time completing work in than the person the office belonged to.

“You're welcomed to wait here until the meeting has ended,” Goat offered, her tone apologetic.

“It's okay, kids. Iruka-sensei's with me,” a familiar gruff voice shot out, projecting from just a short distance off the floor. Pakkun, with the heno-heno-moheji seal showing prominently on his vest, scampered toward them from down the hall. The pug looked to Iruka, his expression indecipherable, before addressing the two guards again. “Or should we interrupt the meeting to ask the Hokage if Iruka can enter?”

The two Anbu guards shook their heads and stepped aside, making way for Iruka and Pakkun to enter together.

Iruka's stomach dropped, however, upon entering. He felt a sudden urge to flee from the scene, altogether. The occupants of the office appeared to him a panel of judges, the memory of last night an instant mainstay in his mind, to where no degree of levelheadedness could rid the chunin of an acute and sudden paranoia.

Pakkun jumped onto the ledge of the Hokage's desk, plodded around, and sat, beaming at Iruka.

“Iruka-sensei,” Lady Utatane announced, with an air of distaste, and Iruka wondered if she always looked so hatefully bothered or if it was just when around him. “It pleases me that you've finally found time to join us.”

'Us' consisted of Lady Utatane and Elder Mitokado standing beside Ibiki-san, on one side of the Hokage's desk, with Anko, Aoba-san, and Shikamaru standing on the other side of the Hokage's desk. Then there was the Hokage, Kakashi sitting at his desk, without his torn and bloodied robes but with his fingerless-gloved hands clasped together and his broad shoulders hunched forward and not the slightest indication that he currently suffered from any severe injury at all.

“Everyone,” Iruka greeted, bowing quickly, the power of speech suddenly slow to master. “I, huh, have the status reports from Nishimura, Sogen, Haru, and Tanzaku Quarters—”

“Never mind that, Iruka-sensei,” Elder Mitokado said, waving Iruka off with an aggressive swat of his hand. “Those villages sent representatives who reported in your absence.”

“My apologies.” Iruka bowed his head, his eyes chancing a glance at Kakashi as the other man stared pensively into nothingness. “I was unexpectedly delayed.”

“I wonder by what...or who,” Anko, exam proctor and commander of Konoha's Reconnaissance and Security Squad, hummed, the wink she gave Iruka making him wish he was anywhere but there, in that moment, in time, in that room, on their world, alive. “Iruka-sensei, are you okay? You look a bit pale. Okay, now you look red—really, really red... Oh my. Have you stopped breathing?”

“Settle down, Anko,” Ibiki-san murmured, his rich deep voice never sounding more heavenly than in that movement, as Iruka ceased to surely succumb to a lack of oxygen. “Give the man some air. It's evident he made an effort to arrive as soon as he was able... Am I wrong, Iruka-sensei?”

“No, Ibiki-san,” Iruka answered, smiling weakly, the older, taller, broodier, slightly intimidating man appearing far more approachable than Iruka ever imagined he could be. Iruka acknowledged the commanding officer of Konoha's Torture and Interrogation Force's genial nod, taking it as an encouragement to keep babbling. “I was just delayed again, by the guards, actually. Apparently, not even being the Hokage's assistant opens doors for you.”

Iruka looked to the elders, a brief accusation in his eyes, and found his answer to the unspoken question.

“Sorry about that, Iruka-sensei,” Shikamaru, now commanding officer of Anbu, sighed, scratching wearily at the underside of his ponytail. “I ordered Anbu to stake out the perimeter, but Elder Mitokado and Lady Utatane insisted two guards be stationed at the door and that no one but everyone already present be allowed entry.”

“I figured,” Iruka said, smiling at Shikamaru.

“Iruka-sensei?”

“Yes, Aoba-san?”

“May I have those reports?

“Of course,” Iruka said, moving forward to hand them over. The commanding officer of Konoha's Intelligence Division met him halfway, taking the files in the fold of one arm while mindlessly nudging at the shades fastened around his head with his free hand.

“Thank you,” he said, readjusting the files in his grasp. “Having representatives sent from each village is well enough, but they have a tendency to skew the numbers to suit their own agendas. Tanzaku Quarters is notorious for such schemes.”

“Ain't that the truth,” Anko snickered.

Ibiki-san turned to his fellows, adding humorously, “They'd gamble away their entire budget and the savings of the citizenry, if they thought they could hustle Konohagakure for additional funds.”

Iruka relaxed, the energy in the room settling, the lighthearted atmosphere that took shape welcoming him into the fold of sorts. The chunin smiled alongside Anko's boisterous laughter and the snickers and chuckles emitted by all except the elders and the Hokage himself.

Iruka worried over Kakashi, as per usual, over the jonin's unresponsiveness and lack of acknowledgment, but could not yet subdue his paranoia enough to express such concern in front of so many trained eyes.

“I believe it highly inappropriate and incredibly ill-mannered to speak of sister villages in such manner.”

“I couldn't agree more, Lady Utatane,” Elder Mitokado grumbled, readjusting his glasses. “Have you all no tact?”

“Well, at the Academy, I was taught that honesty is always the best policy. Isn't that right, Iruka-sensei?” Shikamaru asked, , grinning from ear to ear, Iruka's former slacker student proving himself a shoo-in for the race to win the elders' utter contempt. The very thought tugged at Iruka's heartstrings, the inner troublemaker still residing within him applauding Shikamaru for his efforts.

“Maa...I got it.”

The room fell from levity and into a sudden lull, as Kakashi spoke for the first time since Iruka's arrival. That feeling of ease the chunin had begun to feel disappeared, as the Hokage's office returned to order.

“Finally!” Elder Mitokado wailed, charging Kakashi's desk, and Pakkun all but growled at the elderly man's approach. “What is your decision, then, Kakashi?”

Kakashi looked to his right, at Lady Utatane, Elder Mitokado, Ibiki-san, and to his left, at Anko, Aoba-san, and Shikamaru, before resting on Iruka, their eyes locking instantly upon contact, and though Iruka burned beneath Kakashi's inescapable stare, he grew curious as to the reason it gleamed with absolute mischief.

“Uzumaki Naruto.”

“Kakashi, you jest too much,” Lady Utatane condemned, her hostility growing steadily less concealed.

“Nonsense!” Elder Mitokado shouted, surprising even Konoha's best shinobi, the cream of the crop, with his sudden outburst. The slap of his aging hand against the Hokage's desk received an equally exaggerated shriek from Anko, who squealed with excitement at Elder Mitokado's display of outrage. “Kakashi, you have four of Konohagakure's finest fighters in this room, all of whom have displayed far more prowess in both strategy and leadership and are far more qualified to oversee and protect the Hidden Leaf than Uzumaki Naruto!”

“What?” Iruka allowed his disbelief to escape him, in all its great ignorance, the context of the dispute not all that clear to him. “What's happening?”

“The next Kage Summit is fast approaching, Iruka-sensei, or have you forgotten?” Lady Utatane stated, turning on Iruka. “As the Hokage's assistant, I believe it was your job to remind him of this fact; however, today's proceedings have led me to believe that little thought or consideration has been made in regards to reinforcement and preparations toward the Hokage's impending absence.”

“Uzumaki is not a viable option,” Elder Mitokado spat, earning him insidious stares from the likes of Ibiki-san, Anko, Aoba-san, and Shikamaru, but not Iruka. Iruka wore his anger like a badge of honor and, for once, Kakashi seemed to share in the outward expression of his anger. “Pick someone else!”

“I've already made my decision and my decision is final,” Kakashi barked, sending an exhilarating shock up Iruka's spine. A small sense of shame settled in the pit of his stomach, to relish in the way Elder Mitokado faltered at the finality in Kakashi's tone, the warning in his one visible eye, the hardness of his lean form as he stood a tall, immovable stature, but it was a very small sense of shame. “By the time all necessary preparations have been made and the announcement for my departure draws near, Team 7 will have returned from their peace mission in Amegakure. Shikamaru, you will command a secondary wave of Anbu reinforcement, stationed in every village in the Land of Fire, but act as adviser to Naruto as he grows accustom to his temporary station.”

“Yes, Kakashi-sama,” Shikamaru said, bowing, lifting up to reveal an even bigger smirk than before, evidently amused by the undignified sputters now escaping Elder Mitokado.

“Anko and Aoba, I expect a joint campaign to intercept and dismantle any suspicious activity uncovered by the task force both Intelligence and Security supply for the second wave of Anbu reinforcement. I demand teams based on skill and necessity.”

“Of course, Kakashi-sama.” Aoba-san bowed.

“Yes, sir!” Anko snickered, with a two-finger salute, holding back more laughter from before Elder Mitokado's ever-reddening face.

“Moreover, I expect both Intelligence and Reconnaissance to continue to work closely with the Torture and Interrogation Force, as I suspect the prisoners currently in our custody will have a lot more insight into the enemy's base of operations, if not the full scope of their intentions.”

“Hai, Kakashi,” Ibiki said, his growing intolerance to Elder Mitokado's behavior escaping him in a hefty sigh. “We will continue with current procedure, regarding our current capacity, but are we to intercommunicate with Uzumaki's stewardship on recent matters?”

“No,” Kakashi said, explaining, “his standing will remain periphery, in recent affairs, but in the event of another attack he will fight and he will protect the Hidden Leaf.”

“Do you find it wise to promote Uzumaki, your former student, to the stewardship of Hokage?” Lady Utatane spoke, at long last, remaining far courtlier than her male counterpart. She looked to everyone in the room, with the exception of Iruka, gauging their reactions. “Is he truly fit to lead Konohagakure, to protect the Hidden Leaf, in Kakashi's stead? After all, this is the boy who failed to kill Uchiha Sasuke when he had the chance.”

“Naruto's not the only one who failed to kill Sasuke when he had the chance,” Kakashi supplied, dully. “Does that not make me equally unfit to protect and lead Konoha?”

“No one should be killing Sasuke when given the chance,” Iruka defended, the opinion falling out of his mouth faster than he could remember his station. The room stilled and silenced then, even Elder Mitokado returning to a state of dignity not yet lost to him, and Iruka fought the urge to look away from all those probing eyes staring back at him.

“...Perhaps,” Kakashi offered and, for whatever reason, Iruka felt a decrease in vulnerability, the hierarchy of the room less daunting, as he stared back into the unrelenting gaze of the Hokage.

“Let us move on to other matters,” Lady Utatane said, cutting short that all too temporary sense of inclusion. “Kakashi, you must decide on the party members that will accompany you on your journey to the Hidden Mist.”

“I already have,” Kakashi said, smiling with his eye in typical fashion. “I've discussed this with Anko and Aoba, who were generous enough to assemble a team fit to represent the Hidden Leaf as well as combat any dangers we might potentially encounter.”

“Grand,” Lady Utatane said, not appearing all that grand about it herself, “and who are these individuals?”

“Apologies, Lady Utatane,” Aoba-san interposed, “but, for the sake of security, these individuals have been placed under strict discretion and will remain nameless until the appointed time.”

“Of course,” Lady Utatane nodded.

“Except,” Kakashi settled back into his chair and stared at Iruka, the unjustly handsome face that flashed in momentary glimpses of the night before beaming from beneath the jonin's mask, “I can confirm that Iruka-sensei will be accompanying me and my appointed team on the journey to the Hidden Mist. He will attend the Kage Summit, as well.”

“ **What?”** Lady Utatane, Elder Mitokado, and Iruka managed in unison.

“Ne, did I not say my decisions were final?”

“Kakashi,” Elder Mitokado began again, “Iruka-sensei is not suited for a journey of this nature. He is but a school teacher!”

“Hey!” Shikamaru snapped, unburdened by reverence toward the elders. “Considering I'm a product of Iruka-sensei's school teaching, I can vouch that you do Konoha a disservice by underestimating the man.”

“Thank you, Shikamaru.”

“No thanks needed,” Shikamaru rebuffed, scowling at Elder Mitokado. “The truth speaks for itself.”

“Be that as it may, Kakashi, Iruka-sensei serves no function that is properly representative of the Hidden Leaf,” Lady Utatane said, her manner cold. “What would be his purpose?”

“Iruka-sensei is good at reading people,” Kakashi said, his eye remaining fixed on Iruka, and Iruka felt its intensity on his skin, the heat within him rising and pooling around his face. “Furthermore, he makes no assumptions about people, so he's open to the fluidity of honesty and deceit. I find his empathetic nature an invaluable asset long since underutilized and plan to take full advantage of it when gathering with the most strategic leaders of the Five Great Shinobi Countries.”

Iruka feared he might have stopped breathing again, Kakashi's words short of praise and yet simultaneously suffocating.

“Maa...If there are no other issues or concerns, I'd like everyone to return to their duties. Aoba, Shikamaru, and Anko: return to me later today with updates on the status of the teams stationed in Nishimura, Haru, and Sogen. I'm certain myself that Tanzaku Quarters is not our highest priority, for the time being.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

“Sure thing, Kakashi-sama.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Ibiki...” Kakashi looked to the older man, his voice growing low, “Report back to me with any truths you might unearth that are significant to our current situation.”

“It will be my pleasure, Kakashi,” Ibiki-san said, bowing low, and, upon rising, there was that familiar zeal in the man's sharp, black eyes that rendered Iruka immobile, in fear and awe, his forgotten and forever unspoken infatuation with the other scarred man a bothersome thought when coupled with the presence of the man in such close quarters. When Ibiki-san lifted up only to lock eyes with Anko, the kunoichi shameless in hungrily returning his attention, it took everything in Iruka not to gawk in realization.

“Ma, this debriefing is over. By all means, dismiss yourself.”

Iruka's surprise left him standing to the side as everyone else moved to leave the room. Aoba-san passed him first, offering a curt but friendly nod as he exited the Hokage's office.

“So troublesome, but, never a dull moment with you around, Iruka-sensei,” Shikamaru praised, in a languishing yawn, patting Iruka on the shoulder as he passed.

“Likewise, Shikamaru,” Iruka said, amused, but then Anko approached him, her eyes probing him for some reason known to her and her alone, her snakelike movements and coy smile sapping his amusement dry. “Anko,” he greeted, his paranoia forcing him to smile dutifully at his friend.

“How are you feeling, sensei?” Anko started in, angling forward, and Iruka had to remind himself that they were friends, really, really, really good friends. Surely, she'd grant him the dignity of discretion. “You're alright, yeah?”

Iruka nodded, his heightened sense of flight settling into a cautious skip.

Anko slithered closer, smiling still, and whispered, “Feeling sore?”

“Eh?” Iruka stepped away, his face on fire.

Luckily, or rather, unluckily, Ibiki emerged from behind Anko, like an overbearing phantom, placing his large hands on her shoulders.

“Leave him be, Anko.”

“I'm winning this bet, you bastard,” Anko hissed at the man, traumatizing Iruka even further. Anko fashioned a heart with her fingers and held it up, against her buxom chest, offering an exaggerated pout, as Ibiki-san shoved her along.

“Iruka-sensei,” Ibiki-san nodded, smiling sadistically, his strong-jawed features transfixing the chunin.

“Ibiki-san,” Iruka replied, meekly, unable to keep the older man's stare for very long.

“Later, lover boy,” Anko cooed, saintly low, as Ibiki ushered her out of the room. Iruka stared at the floor, as the room emptied, the growing absence of commotion making the carpeted floor a lot more interesting than Iruka remembered it being.

Though he couldn't stare at the floor forever, he was willing to give it a try.

“I promise, Iruka-sensei, I worked very hard to get that stain out of the carpet. You'll have to forgive the incontinence of my brothers.”

“Oh, n-no,” Iruka stammered, alarmed, until he saw the grin stretched across Pakkun's face. “At least we've established who's cleaning up the mess.”

“Yes, sir!” Pakkun saluted, before hopping off the desk. He immediately pranced Iruka's way, tail wagging and ears flapping, to circle the chunin.

Iruka smiled down at Pakkun and, for whatever reason, felt compelled to smile up at the human he belonged to. Though aware of Kakashi watching him, in that nondescript way he could never reconcile without blushing in kind, to see his public facade and how seamless it seemed from the man he was the night before frightened and equally fascinated Iruka.

“I'm not done with you yet, Hatake Kakashi,” Elder Mitokado declared, drawing attention to the fact that he and Lady Utatane hadn't yet made their leave. Iruka snapped out of his trance, beside himself with embarrassment, and ventured to the other side of the oval office, hoping to go unnoticed. Pakkun followed at his heel as he stood where Anko once stood, just a short distance from the Hokage's desk, the task of being Kakashi's assistant remaining evident by the clipboard of the day's agenda still in his hands. “You will listen to reason.”

“Reason? Yes. Not the sanctimonious petitions of two misguided council members,” Kakashi said, grabbing a large satchel of documents from his desk and blindly passing them off to Iruka. “You both can leave, now. Dismissed.”

“Now, wait just a mo—”

“The Hokage has ordered us to leave, Homura,” Lady Utatane interrupted, as Iruka felt her gaze linger on him for no reason whatsoever. “As such, we will go.” Lady Utatane moved to leave first, as the more aware of the two, with Elder Mitokado following reluctantly behind, both proud in the face of Kakashi's dismissal. Kakashi ignored them, their slow strides to the double doors and beyond, but Iruka found it difficult to look away. The trials of his life had long ago taught him humility and yet he could not help but delight in the departure of such insufferable people. Elder Mitokado kept at watching Kakashi, with barely disguised contempt, but it was Lady Utatane who never let her eyes wander from Iruka, even as she spoke her final piece. “It is obvious Kakashi's council has been acquired by other influences.”

“Nevertheless, Kakashi, you have not heard the will of the Council about this Uzumaki business, and you have not heard the last of me.”

“Maa, one can only hope, Mitokado-san,” Kakashi sighed, from beneath his breath.

The Anbu guards on the other side of the doors held them open for Lady Utatane and Elder Mitokado, so that when they closed they did so with a gentle 'click'. With no elders to stare at, Iruka found himself staring at the doors, their solid, wooden surface, wondering what else the late afternoon could possibly hurl at him.

“I think that all went rather well,” Pakkun said, taking ownership of the center of the room with the beginnings of a brisk, back-and-forth stride.

“I couldn't agree more,” Kakashi said, rifling through papers. Even from a distance, Iruka could see them for what they were: papers from a copy of the Kage Summit itinerary. The fact that he had forgotten to bring his own copy and showed up late resurfaced in his mind, causing him to deflate in disgrace. “Iruka, you?”

“That could have gone a lot better and you know it, Kakashi-sama.”

“Oh?” Kakashi turned in his chair, which Iruka could handle, but then he stood, which Iruka could not handle. Kakashi's taller frame, coupled with Iruka's current paranoia, conspired together to concoct the elaborate image of the other man towering over him, Kakashi's penchant for disregarding personal space a powerful weapon against the chunin. “How would you know, Iruka-sensei? You were very late.”

“Whose fault is that, Kakashi-sama?” Iruka snapped, stepping closer, taking the bait by remembering who was in the wrong. Kakashi. Naturally. “Instead of sending ninken to leave a note, why not just have them wake me up?”

“Hey,” Pakkun whined, stopping in his invisible tracks. “I left the window open. I thought the cold might stir you, but, you were pretty knocked out.”

“I'll take the fault for that,” Kakashi said, his joke awarded with Pakkun's unrestrained snickering.

Iruka saw red.

“He knows?” Iruka said, his voice trembling with the weight of the anger suppressed by an awareness of their surroundings. “You told him?”

“Told me what?” Pakkun asked, rascally, not aware of the gravity of Iruka's inner turmoil. “Kakashi needn't tell me anything—I saw all the evidence I needed at your place, thank you very much. More importantly, are you questioning my olfactory capabilities?” Pakkun puffed out his chest, boastfully. “The instant I sniffed Kakashi this morning, I knew somethin' was different. All I could smell was you, and now I know why. No offense, Iruka-sensei, but one whiff of ya and I can smell this idiot from a mile off, let alone in the same room.”

As far as Iruka knew, the Umino lineage had no history of stroke or panic-induced heart attacks, but as Pakkun continued to talk...

“And furthermore—”

“Pakkun! That's enough,” Kakashi ordered, and the pug ceased to speak. Upon noticing the state of Iruka, he quickly scampered forward to drape his paws over the chunin's sandals.

“I'm sorry, pup,” he said, nudging Iruka's shin with the brush of his head.

“It's fine,” Iruka said, his racing heart settling down, the need to crash onto something solid fading. “I'm fine, really.”

Kakashi moved in even closer and lowered his head, almost apologetically so, to say, “I thought, given your recent bouts of exhaustion, you might benefit from the additional rest.”

“Oh,” Iruka said, staring up at him. “Oh.”

“I also didn't consider the ramifications of having an elite ninken pack in regards to the subject, I must admit.”

 _'This subject,'_  Iruka internally obsessed over.

“Neither did I,” Iruka admitted, his eyes searching Kakashi's one, deplorably. “It's fine, really, I don't...I don't know why I reacted the way I did.”

“I never considered how you might react.” Kakashi relented, stepping away, enough to make Iruka feel exposed without his body so near to his. “Did I do something wrong?”

“N-no,” Iruka stuttered, confused. “In fact, I thought maybe you...you would react a certain way, and, I don't know...” Iruka rubbed a hand over his face, his own anxieties far more deeply embedded into his psyche than he's initially imagined. “You didn't.”

Pakkun stared at them, the stretch of silence long enough to go back and forth, like watching an intense standoff between sparring partners.

“I can see you two have a lot to talk about,” the smallest of Kakashi's ninken grumbled, extracting himself from Kakashi and Iruka's staring contest. “The gang's still out tracking, with the Inuzuka ninken, so I think I just might catch up with them.”

Kakashi and Iruka gave no indication they'd even heard a damn thing he just said.

“Right, okay, I'm just gonna go, now...” Pakkun backed away, hyper aware of his own insignificance at the moment. Disappearing in a puff, he doubted the two men would even realize he'd left.

“Iruka-sensei.”

“Yes, Kakashi-sama?”

“The documents in your possession.”

“Oh.” Iruka looked down, to the satchel gripped tightly in his grasp. “The status reports the representatives brought in, right?”

“I need you to go through each and cross-reference them with our own reports. Aoba doesn't trust anyone outside Konohagakure enough to commit to memory any potentially falsified information, and you're currently the only person who has accessed two separate accounts. See that there are no discrepancies.”

“Yes, Kakashi-sama.”

Kakashi remained standing, not yet moving to sit down again just yet. Iruka stood, somewhat at a loss himself, waiting on some cue that might dictate his own movements. As if reading his mind, Kakashi moved forward again, the lack of personal space less daunting and more of a blessing to Iruka, a heart-arresting, mind-racing blessing.

“Is there something else, Kakashi?”

“No,” he said, but it was clear in his own uncertainty that there, indeed, was something else. “You have a shift in the missions room, later this evening.”

“It's more accurate to say in a couple of hours, given the time, no?”

The two smiled at each other, hesitantly but easily enough, neither of them in a rush to say all that remained unspoken. Iruka stared at Kakashi now and couldn't help but not see the unmasked face from the night before, the memory, though invasive, still too surreal and unimaginable to come to terms with, the face he'd known so well before, mask and drooping hitai-ate and all, appearing so much more solid. It made Iruka eager to revisit the unmasked face, to grow accustom to it, and it was his superficial fear that Kakashi might never again allow him the privilege.

“I'm going to do work now,” Iruka stated, holding up the satchel as proof.

“Do as much as you can, given the time,” Kakashi nodded, “then you're free to embark on your other duties.”

“I know the drill,” Iruka said, because he felt it needed being said, the formality in Kakashi's words an indication of change, a difference between them. For the sake of his sanity, Iruka needed the normalcy of their work relationship, if nothing else. “I mean yes, Kakashi-sama.”

“Good,” Kakashi said, stepping away for the last time. He sat back in his chair and turned toward his desk, noticeably stiff and ungainly. Not knowing what he could do to make the distance and the silence between them comfortable again, as it had been not but days before, Iruka settled on leaving with his work.

Iruka went to speak but couldn't find the right words to dispel the strangeness...of never having been more intimate with Kakashi, than last night, only to feel so foreign to him now. Instead he bowed, wordlessly excusing himself, and made it all the way across the room before the drift of Kakashi's voice lured him to a standstill.

“Iruka-sensei?”

“Yes, Kakashi-sama?”

Kakashi kneaded the surface of his desk with listless fingertips, swiveling every-so-slightly in his chair, as he looked to Iruka from beneath his own rounded gaze.

“Will I see you tonight?”

Iruka held one hand against the doors of the Hokage's office, staring back in bemusement.

“Of course,” he hummed, smiling, though the actuality of their arrangement had never fully crossed his mind until now. Iruka wondered if their usual fair of shared proximity would remain the same, warm and familiar, or now feel cold and forced. “I'll see you tonight, Kakashi-sama.”

 

 

They never did attempt any of that talking Pakkun mentioned.

Iruka went about the rest of his workday, cross-referencing different status reports for the same villages in hopes of finding as few contradictions as possible. When he ran out of time or, more candidly, could no longer subject himself to page after page of what were the written equivalents of a low quality training video, Iruka moved on to his evening shift in the missions room. The time flew by in a series of flak jackets and chests guards, his mind so far gone with distant thoughts, the recent attack having either postponed or aborted missions altogether so there wasn't much traffic to be had that night's shift.

So much down time and Iruka couldn't keep his mind from flooding with thoughts long enough to enjoy the abnormality. Even Genma was gone, the tokubetsu jonin having been tasked with a relocation detail of civilian nobility, and yet Iruka could not even bask in his gossip-mongering coworker's absence.

 

 

Iruka returned home, late that night, to find the living room lights on and Kakashi sitting beneath them.

“I thought you'd be home sooner, given the emergency curfew in effect,” Kakashi remarked in greeting, looking over the top of one of his Icha Icha books. Iruka tugged his sandals off his feet and tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, languishing in the feel of carpet beneath his bare feet.

“I decided to finish up those status reports... Aoba-san was right to suspect foul play. I reported to him, for a second viewing of our reports, and now the Intelligence Division is going to extract what they can to properly fine Tanzaku Quarters.”

“Of course, it would be them.”

“It wasn't just them—their numbers just happened to be more off than the rest, sadly,” Iruka said, chancing to sit on his couch, next to Kakashi. The jonin had a blanket pulled over the lower half of his body, one he no doubt had fished out of the cabinet in the hallway, even his high tolerance to the elements unable to withstand the weather growing chillier by the hour. “Haru, Sogen, Nishimura...they all fabricated elements in their reports to receive a larger compensation.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose,” Kakashi said, turning a page. “I can see why Elder Hurasu is eager to see Amegakure pay reparations for the war.”

“Really?” Kakashi nodded in confirmation, causing Iruka to stare off in amazement. “That's ridiculous. Amegakure doesn't have that kind of money.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Kakashi said, his book wilting close. “I figured we'd make a far better go at making them our allies, initiating them into the Shinobi Union, than shoving our hands down empty pockets.”

Iruka's eyes grew wide, himself in disbelief at the news.

“Amegakure wants to join the union?”

“I see you understand the gravity of this, Iruka.”

“How could I not? This could drastically change the structure of the shinobi world. Konoha's endorsement of this could place our standing with other nations in jeopardy.” Iruka turned to face Kakashi, the jonin's feet burying deep beneath the warmth of his thigh. “Kakashi, this is serious.”

“Maa, I'm quite aware,” Kakashi said, miserably, “which is why I've decided to set my Hokage duties aside for the rest of the evening and lose myself in a good book.”

“I've watched you lose yourself in that same book more times than I care to count,” Iruka muttered, his gaze narrowed in indifference. “How much more lost can you get?”

“It's the second installment of Ich Icha Paradise, you know.”

“Yes, I know. Trust me, I know.”

“I edited this book.”

“You didn't?” Again, Kakashi nodded in confirmation, lowering the bend of his knees to address Iruka properly. In doing so, his feet dug further into the underside of Iruka's leg, until the chunin practically sat on top of those cold, pale appendages.

“After the Third Shinobi World War,” Kakashi said, elaborating, “before finalizing my jonin sensei status, Sandaime-sama tasked me with accompanying Jiraiya on an low-profile mission, during which Jiraiya was in the middle of completing the second work to his Icha Icha series. He couldn't afford an editor, so I took on the task myself.”

“I guess that means this book holds a certain significance to you.”

“It does.”

Iruka nodded, dumbly, the look in Kakashi's eye indescribable, except he found a deep fondness there for Jiraiya's trashy romance novels. A timid smile graced the chunin's features as, for the first time, he forced himself to think differently about the Icha Icha series or, rather, the man before him who enjoyed reading them. Kakashi returned to reading the book in his hand, opening it back up to the page he'd bookmarked with his thumb.

Iruka examined his apartment, in the silence that followed, and realized something, or rather, someones were amiss.

“Where are the ninken?”

“As a show of camaraderie with their fellow ninken, they've opted to stay with the Inuzuka clan tonight,” Kakashi said, his head remaining shoved between the pages of the novel in his hands. “I was genuinely surprised, when Pakkun told me, since they don't usually play well with others.”

“That sounds like learned behavior to me,” Iruka teased, staring at Kakashi's covered knees. “I wonder who by?”

“Ne, I play well with others.” Kakashi pouted, defensive but equally lighthearted, and Iruka's eyes studied the room for a little longer still, habitually drooping, his tired mind becoming pleasantly surprised by the sight surrounding them. Though wearied by the turn of the day's events, Iruka more than expected and accepted the fact that he'd left his apartment in shambles the night before. Kakashi's robes, the tray, the bowl, the cloth, the utensils and first aid materials he'd used to clean and dress Kakashi's wound, however, were gone from the now immaculate living room.

“You cleaned up.”

“I cleaned up. See? I'm far from disagreeable,” Kakashi countered, his usual flare for an air of superiority returning to him. “I also made dinner, if you're so inclined.”

Iruka wanted nothing more than to take Kakashi up on that offer.

“I'm pretty tired, actually,” Iruka admitted, in defeat, rising from the couch. Doing so drew the chunin's attention to the cold feet feeding off the warmth of his backside he'd grown used to, his disappointment in losing the sensation a pitiful indication of just how much he longed for the other's touch again. “I'm going to head to bed.”

“As you wish,” Kakashi said, and Iruka felt the jonin's eye on him, pulling his head out of his book to watch him go. “Goodnight, Iruka.”

“Goodnight, Kakashi.”

It was the blanket, really. That made it clear to Iruka. The chunin saw it, the very same one he'd pulled out for the jonin to use on previous nights, saw how the other man had taken to sprawling out on his couch, and figured Kakashi had every intention of sleeping there tonight. Had he any other intention, he would have made it known... Halfway down the hallway and Iruka stopped himself, a terrifically stupid thought occurring to him, his feet pivoting and turning back to grace his living room before the idea could fully materialize in his mind, his resignation overpowered by an insane hope.

Iruka stood at the doorway, between the living room and the hallway, knowing Kakashi's prowess in sense recognition would soon indicate his return no matter how engrossed with his Icha Icha.

“Kakashi.”

“Mm?”

“You don't...” Iruka began, a hotness overwhelming his ability to speak. Kakashi hadn't taken his eye off his book, remaining strangely fixated on it, but that didn't subdue Iruka's feeling of being stared down by the jonin with equal intensity. “You don't have to sleep on the couch tonight, or any night, for that matter...”

Kakashi gazed up at that, staring at him with that intensity Iruka had only imagined, but Iruka felt it and then some. Kakashi's piercing stare caused him hesitation but Iruka continued, both encouraged and compelled by the man's undivided attention.

“You can sleep with me.”

Iruka felt trapped by Kakashi's unyielding stare, his stony silence, and realized too late that his words were, perhaps, not best suited for subtly. Only the eventual suddenness of Kakashi's reaction managed to smooth over his unease, Kakashi steadily paced as he tossed his Icha Icha to the coffee table and extracted himself from the couch. Kakashi didn't bother to fold the blanket, instead flinging it over an arm of the couch, and, for once, Iruka couldn't care less. The chunin found himself more preoccupied with Kakashi, his movements, determining whether they were too eager or not eager enough, worried with whether Kakashi felt obligated to take him up on his offer rather than genuinely pleased by the offer altogether.

Before Iruka knew it, Kakashi had made his way from the couch to the hallway entrance without the aid of any jutsu.

“I can hear you thinking, Iruka.”

“Please, don't let that actually be true.”

Iruka stared up at Kakashi, really taking in the sight of him, and Kakashi did the same, his stare both acute and waiting, as they stood in similarly close proximity to that afternoon... except alone.

“Are they thoughts you'd rather not share?” Kakashi asked, reaching out to caress Iruka's shoulders. The chunin closed his eyes, moving into the touch, until the warm breath beneath Kakashi's mask grazed his temple. “Are they thoughts of regret?”

Iruka pulled away but not far enough to lose the loose embrace of Kakashi's fingers. A panic worked its way through him at the implication of Kakashi's words.

“No,” Iruka said, firmly, pained by the idea.

“Good,” Kakashi replied, a smile reaching his eye, and maybe it was exhaustion, but Iruka dared to suspect, dared to hope he saw relief wash over Kakashi's intense gaze. The jonin quickly released one of his shoulders to gesture toward the darkened hallway beyond. “After you.”

Iruka turned back down the hallway and, with the flick of the living room light switch, Kakashi soon followed.

It was both old and new, to say the least, what Iruka felt upon reaching his bedroom. With the door left open, he entered in the dark, attune to the layout of his own furnishings. He turned on the nearest lamp, on the nearest nightstand, filling the room with a muted incandescence, a yellowish luminosity just bright enough to reveal a standoffish Kakashi hanging awkwardly by the door, stiff and gawking, more out of his element than the agency of his actions the night before would have suggested. The difference caused Iruka another bout of worry, fed into a growing agitation, and he was sick of it.

“Maybe I'm not the one with thoughts of regret,” Iruka goaded, rising, his hands fastened defensively against his waist, and Kakashi had the nerve to appear surprised. “Ne, Kakashi?”

“You couldn't be more wrong, Iruka.”

“Prove it.”

Iruka knew Kakashi wasn't one to dismiss a challenge, not usually, even when confronted with the ridiculousness of Gai-sensei. The leader of the Hidden Leaf was nothing more than a stubborn ass, hellbent on showing up anyone who dared to disagree with his delusions of grandeur. Iruka had found himself on the receiving end of said arrogance on many occasions and, in this instance, he saw no difference, Kakashi's response somewhat predictable and yet no less dubious to endure. Iruka must have blinked and missed the moment when Kakashi closed the space between them, his movements so quick, and only felt the solid pressure of the arm wrapped around his midsection when it pressed them impossibly close. Iruka stared into the other man's unavoidably masked face, taken by his directness.

“Kakashi?” Kakashi pulled down his mask and, on instinct, Iruka looked away, his reaction temporarily successful, as Kakashi's free hand gripped his jaw and forced him to look back at his exposed face.

“I do not regret this,” Kakashi said, with lips that moved to the formation of his words, crushing their mouths together in a bruising kiss Iruka too eagerly craved, taking Kakashi's bare face in his hands and gripping him nearer for dear life. The memory of last night's embrace paled in comparison to the here and now, the feel of Kakashi's lips enveloping his own a new taste to commit to memory. Iruka felt like a starving man and so readily empathized with Kakashi's hunger, letting him feed in excess, in his attempt to prove Iruka wrong.

The arm wrapped around his waist tightened its hold, accompanied by Kakashi's other arm, the obstruction of their uniforms a trivial nuisance in their desperate attempt to devour each other. Iruka felt reassured in the way Kakashi's hands clung to his person, traveling down and beneath his chest guard, until the pads of his fingers started electric sparks against Iruka's skin. When they finally parted for air, Iruka worked quickly to remove the offending piece of gear, all the while reveling in how Kakashi openly leered at him. Iruka went to pull his turtleneck off from the bottom hem when Kakashi grabbed him from behind and pushed him back into a searing kiss, the end of which resulted in them both gasping for air, their foreheads pressing insistently together.

“Never doubt me in this, Iruka,” Kakashi said, the harshness of his words lessened by the absence of his mask.

“Don't give me a reason to doubt you then, Kakashi,” Iruka said, frowning.

The chunin felt simultaneously ridiculous and vindicated, broken and healed. Only in the way the other man held him, with no intention of releasing him, the strong grip of his hands as they roamed his person, ceasing to find purchase everywhere they touched, did Iruka allow himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, what had happened last night wasn't a fluke. That the high of battle, the adrenaline rush felt knowing that every moment of being a shinobi could be their last, or the outcome of living when others died all around, every day, the fear of going this existence alone, might have been Kakashi's motivation haunted Iruka. It made him doubt himself, everything he felt for the jonin, as well. It was at the Memorial Stone Iruka had found Kakashi, after all, a place of vulnerability for any of their kind. Then he said all those things and, of course... Of course, Iruka thought, his hands caressing down Kakashi's face, sadly.

“I'm sorry,” Iruka said, gentle in resting his hands against Kakashi's chest. “I'm sorry,” he said again, unable to help himself.

“Don't apologize, please,” Kakashi said, resisting Iruka's attempts to let him go. “Please...”

Kakashi took hold of Iruka's hands and clasped them to his lips.

“...Don't.”

Iruka felt that burning in his face sting in the corners of his eyes, feeling so frustrated, so raw and, above all else, tired. Kakashi appeared nothing short of patient, wanting in a savoring way, the smile growing on his perfect face both angering and relieving to Iruka. Kakashi pulled Iruka forward by his clasped hands and took his chin in his thumb and forefinger, the callous pads of his fingertips a striking contrast to the softness of his lips as they pressed against the chunin's own. Iruka closed his eyes, his lips moving in harmony with Kakashi's, himself savoring the slow and steady pace of their embrace. They pressed for lingering kisses, chaste kisses, moist touches of lips tracing skin, until Iruka had felt the expanse of Kakashi's unseen face with his own, the beginnings of a beard in short bristles too white to fully see, before settling against Kakashi's wounded body. Kakashi's lips trailed down Iruka's jawline, burrowing his face against Iruka's, before he too settled, hunched slightly forward, inhaling deep into the crook of Iruka's neck.

Kakashi held him closer and Iruka wrapped his arms around the jonin, grasping for another answer to another unspoken question.

“Kakashi...”

“Iruka.”

“...What do we do now?” Iruka whispered, a part of him not wanting to know the answer to that question. Against his better judgment, he thought back to that afternoon, to Kakashi, the Hokage-Kakashi, the one he was meant revere and regard with the respect due a leader, given by a subordinate, a person of much lower status, someone who surely did not come from any line of nobility. Iruka considered everyone present at the debriefing and hated to think that whoever they were and whatever they stood for in any way influenced his decisions, but they were merely a meager number, barely even representative of the many people Kakashi was meant to lead and protect. “What do we do now?”

Try as he might to see through this, Iruka felt lost.

Eventually, Kakashi pulled away to answer that question. He sensed the weight of Iruka's thoughts, growing heavier by the moment, and wanted for a way to see the chunin's mind put to ease. As Iruka look to him, with so much disturbance in his overly caring, overly fraught, rightfully concerned eyes, the warmest of pools of brown, Kakashi couldn't help but smile, a small, relieved smirk, the frigid air permeating from outside a refreshing element against his exposed skin, because the answer to Iruka's question was so clear to him.

“What do we do now?” Kakashi hummed, reaching down to unclasp the strap of his chest guard. “Now, we go to bed.”

Kakashi continued to smile, until he pulled his chest guard off, followed by his sleeved shirt, then his fitted a-shirt, the attached mask the last to tug away from his gravity-defying hair.

“Kami, Kakashi,” Iruka swore, breathlessly.

“Mm?”

Iruka traced the surface of his gauze wrappings with restless fingers, his slight prodding enough to force Kakashi back in what the jonin considered dignified flinches.

“Maa,” Kakashi breathed, when he really wanted to say 'Ow'.

“You idiot.”

“Ne?”

The chunin touched where a large blot of blood had seeped through and caked a bright copper, causing the jonin to hiss and his very visible mouth to form a grimace. Iruka glared at Kakashi, accusingly; concerned, but accusingly.

“The stitching has ripped, and you're wincing like you forgot you've been severely injured in the first place. Did you even go to the hospital and see a medic-nin or have I just been talking to a brick wall this whole time?”

“That would imply you've been kissing and feeling up a brick wall this whole time, Iruka.”

“Shut up. Shut your mouth,” Iruka snapped, staring at Kakashi's mouth, the chunin's own reddened face descending somehow more gorgeously into the lower end of the visible light spectrum. “I know you're capable of taking care of yourself, Kakashi, but you worry me sometimes.”

“It's fine, Iruka, I assure you...” Kakashi looked down to confirm this himself. Of course, he could feel the injury, determine its condition through a threshold of pain, but even less serious wounds had been known to fester and grow numb, unbeknownst to the walking corpses that bore them. “To pacify your concerns, however, you're welcome to accompany me when I visit the hospital tomorrow.”

“I will. I mean...” Iruka looked at the bandaged area, studying his handy work, and recomposed himself with a trying sigh. “I'd like that, Kakashi,” he said, rubbing gently at the site with the palm of his hand. The chunin dropped his hand, the contact between them, and tried a smile that clearly cost more effort than it was worth. “Thank you.”

Kakashi shrugged, “While we're there, maybe we can see someone about that chip on your shoulder.”

That smile turned deranged faster than Kakashi believed he could quite possibly make it to safety.

“You're injured,” Iruka cautioned him, “so I'm going to let that go and let you survive the night.”

“I hope that's not always the case, Iruka.”

“BED. NOW.”

Iruka pulled off his turtleneck and shivered to feel the cold against his bare torso. He pulled off his wrappings, then his pants, his hitai-ate, and finally the hairband holding his whole ensemble together, releasing his messy and free-flowing hair, until he stood in nothing but his briefs and the dog tags around his neck, doing his best to ignore the reality of his near nakedness. When he turned, Kakashi was already in bed, occupying the side nearest to the bedroom door, his hitai-ate and fingerless gloves sitting on the nightstand beside him, his pants and wrappings collecting at the foot of the bed, with the rest of his uniform. The clothes from yesterday had vanished but, given the living room's current condition, Iruka readily assumed—he hoped, at least—Kakashi had put everything in the dirty hamper in the bathroom.

“Don't make a habit of this,” Iruka said, nodding to the clothes on the floor. “Clothes go in the dirty hamper as soon as they come off.”

“I'll be sure to try not to remember.”

“Are you looking for a fight, Hatake Kakashi?” Iruka asked, approaching the bed. Kakashi smiled, a smile with his lips that Iruka could actually see, and that would never not amaze him, even though he longed for the day it would not make him blush.

Kakashi eyed the dog tags around Iruka’s neck, as the chunin descended into bed, enjoying how they dangled from his creamy copper skin. The jonin remained silent about them, however, fearing to call attention to them. Iruka being Iruka, he might insist on returning them but, as he watched him settle against his mattress, Kakashi couldn’t imagine a more perfect place he would have wanted to keep them than on Iruka.

It meant something to him.

“I'm merely accepting the inevitability of a forgone rule,” the jonin said, lifting the sheet up for Iruka to climb in, and the chunin did so, internally disappointed to find the jonin wearing briefs of his own, black instead of his own grey, and was not, in fact, sleeping in the nude. “On the day you see fit to let me have you, and I'm ripping off your clothes with abandoned, the cleanliness of your bedroom will be the very least of my concerns.”

Iruka clenched tight on the sheet in his hand, frozen, in a state of shock, as Kakashi moved to pull up the covers.

“On that day, we will see where your priorities lie,” Kakashi continued, in a gentle drawl, enjoying the way Iruka sat with his mouth slightly agape, the many joys of the chunin's lips the inspiration to fantasies of what was yet explored and yet to come. “May I turn off the light?”

“Please do,” Iruka squeaked, coughing in the pitch black of night. Kakashi settled into Iruka's bed and, eventually, Iruka did the same, an uncalled for amount of space between the two of them. The jonin waited for the daze of his directness to pass, listening for the settled rhythm of Iruka's breathing, before moving closer. “Kakashi?”

“Mm?” The jonin responded, chancing an arm around the chunin's midsection.

“Naruto.”

“Mm,” Kakashi said, suffocating himself with the pillow at his disposal. He went on to ask, his voice incredibly muffled, “What about him, Iruka?” Iruka inched closer, a sudden energy about him, and why wouldn't there be? The mere mention of Naruto released an airborne pathogen of temporary hyperactivity. Kakashi considered the bright side, taking Iruka's movement toward him as a cue to further secure his arm around the other man's waist, pulling him closer, until he could tangle his fingers through loose strands of brown hair and press his lips against the warm skin of Iruka's forehead.

“Acting as stewardship to the position of Hokage...”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Does he know?” Iruka asked.

“Not yet,” Kakashi said and happily so, against the chunin's person. “I chose to wait and relay this information to him, personally, rather send out the news. Doing so eliminates the probability of interceptors.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me... I'm simply taking necessary precautions.” Kakashi felt his Hokage voice bleeding through, the very last voice he wanted to use with Iruka at this time. “I'm doing what's best for Konoha, whether Konoha knows it or not.”

“Thank you for waiting to tell him, I mean,” Iruka said, quietly, and, even in the dark, Kakashi could see those graciously giving eyes of his looking up at his still open one. “He won't forget it.”

Kakashi lifted the arm around Iruka's waist to graze through his hair, his pale, hardened hand cupping the chunin's face.

“I know,” he said, leaving a kiss against the chunin's temple.

Kakashi was counting on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Next chapter(s) won't be this long--Scout's honor! (But don't hold me to it). ^_^ *weeps*


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the attack and the night before, Iruka turns to a familiar solace as Kakashi seeks reinforcement from a few familiar faces. Meanwhile, the looming threat of the enemy continues to unfold with devastating consequence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I hate Time Warner. Also, I'm a piece of shit. Enjoy.

Iruka wanted nothing more than to go back in time, to when his parents had all the answers. Umino Kohari had a solution for every problem and Umino Ikkaku the words to encourage him to embrace his mother's resolve.

“I need advice,” he whispered at the Memorial Stone, sitting cross-legged before it. As memory and reality had served him, talking to a stone and hoping the dead would talk back wasn't exactly the most reasonable expectation but it made Iruka feel better for trying. “You both know better than anyone... I'm bound to do something I'll regret.”

Iruka imagined his mother and father agreeing with this assessment, causing his loving smile to increase to an impossible degree. The ache forever present in his heart, for their absence, could never outweigh the pride of having known them for the first ten years of his life. Though alone for many years afterward, losing them to the Kyuubi attack never changed how he thought of them, as the heroes they were for giving their lives for Konohagakure.

Iruka never felt abandoned by his heroes.

“I have a problem. Wait, no,” Iruka sighed, in malaise. “What a terrible thing to say—he's not a problem...” If anything, it was Iruka who had abandoned his parents that fatal night, their sacrifice only made possible by him not being able to fight by their side.

As leaves fell in the crisp morning air, danced in the gusting wind around him, Iruka thought back to the darkness, the destruction, the confusion; the blood gushing from the deadly deep stab wound on his mother's back, his father's last stand to protect her, watching them both fade from sight as reinforcements dragged him away by force. He closed his eyes.

“I'm in a situation and, maybe, you guys can help.”

Silence.

“I'm happy,” he admitted, breathlessly, the truth astonishing even to him. Not the happiness he felt for others, for his students, his friends and special people, no... “I think that scares me.”

Iruka took a moment to look around him, basking in the lull of midday. Having spent all morning with the ninken, paying for his and Kakashi's indiscretion of two days prior, the relative quiet and serenity at the Memorial Stone offered him the luxury of perspective, far from prying eyes and probing questions, with Pakkun, Bull, Urushi, Shiba, Bisuke, Akino, Uhei, and Guruko—Guruko especially—all but tearing up his apartment in elation, claiming how they'd known that what had happened would happen all along and how boneheaded Kakashi and he had been to have not known their feelings until now.

That was his morning, Iruka lamented, the memory still in its infancy and so still a source of embarrassment to him. The ninken even followed him into Nishimura, where Iruka reported to the cleanup team he'd been assigned to on the day of the attack, claiming tracking duties in the area as their purpose for following him. As he apologized to his teammates for the ninken's constant interruptions in incessant amount, he maintained the strongest suspicion that their tracking duties didn't necessarily involve the well-meaning but overzealous surveillance of an average academy sensei.

_“We look after our own, Iruka. You know that.”_

Iruka might have strangled Pakkun before he could flee the scene again if not for those words that made the chunin's heart thud hard within his chest. The ninken often expressed such sentiment, of course, but to hear the same now sounded to Iruka like something significantly more...like belonging, acceptance, a blessing by those most familiar to one Hatake Kakashi. That's all it took, Iruka knew, a single idea as simplistic as that to nurture within him a budding hope too fragile to fully let bloom. As he lagged behind his teammates, his body autonomous to the task of tearing down and collecting what remained of devastated infrastructure for the purpose of rebuilding, Iruka pondered at the possibilities of what it truly meant to wake up in the morning and know the other man's face.

Iruka spent a great deal of his mental capacity dwelling on such thoughts and considerations, his own duties in Nishimura suffering for his neglect, until Kita Shun, his jonin team leader, saw fit to dismiss him for his less than stellar performance.

_“A team must work as one body, Umino-sensei, as I'm sure you're aware. A sleeping limb is of no use to me but a prickly discomfort I refuse to endure. Get to the infirmary tent and wake yourself up.”_

Ignoring the smug satisfaction of a few of his teammates, Iruka went to the infirmary tent erected in their assigned area, as commanded, where a medic-nin recommended he take the rest of the day off from cleanup detail. With clearance to leave, the chunin found his mind elsewhere, again, the memory movement of his body taking him down the main road through the surrounding forest and back into Konoha Proper, where his feet carried him here, before the Memorial Stone.

“The ninken think I'm mad at them,” Iruka sighed, wryly, amusement evident in the glint of his warm brown eyes. “I haven't seen them since Shun-san dismissed me from duty and yes...” Iruka sighed, again, his eyes growing weary in dismay, “I was dismissed from morning's duty. I know, it isn't like me at all—it's why I've come to you for advice, I guess.”

Iruka told his parents everything, from his adolescent indiscretions to his now impeccable shinobi record, at the Memorial Stone. Even in death, he imagined the perplexity of his mother's brow toward her ever-inconsistent son, as a woman once so blessed in the art of efficiency would find his current inability beyond comprehension. His late father would simper, tauntingly, and then spare him no end of a useless lecture.

“The medic-nin at the infirmary tent said I suffered from severe exhaustion. I was told the same thing by a medic-nin at the hospital. I'm fine, though—no need for alarm.” Iruka produced a nervous laugh at the thought of his mother's indiscernible care, his father's facetious concern. “We weren't even there for me, actually.”

The chunin traced the span of his parents' names with distance eyes as he thought fondly of yesterday morning. Iruka climbed out of bed to the tune of a running faucet, rubbing his eyes all the while, his short journey from his bedroom to his bathroom culminating in the discovery of Kakashi hovering over the bathroom sink with a toothbrush in his mouth.

 _“Morn'ng,”_ Kakashi managed through the bristles, offering Iruka a smile.

The weather hadn't let up from the day before, seemingly having worsened throughout the night, as a biting cold accompanied them on their way to the hospital. It was quiet, a considerable silence having grown between them, but it was a good quiet, a comfortable silence. They moved through a routine they'd executed many times before, with Iruka putting tea on the stove and Kakashi taking it upon himself to make them both a quick breakfast of eggs and rice. Iruka had emerged from the bathroom, dressed in uniform sans flak jacket, to the smell of food cooking and the sight of Kakashi lounging on his couch with the same Icha Icha novel from the night before held open before him by a thumb and forefinger. Kakashi lifted his gaze, partially covered by his drooping head protector, as Iruka entered the living room, their eyes meeting in brief glances of mutual enjoyment of each other's company. Iruka continued into the kitchen, as the tea kettle had gone off some time before, smiling at the two plates of food set on the nearest counter. Iruka had approached the stove, imagining how Kakashi must have been waiting on the tea so that they could eat and drink together, and reached out to move the whistling tea kettle to a cool burner when he sensed the jonin behind him, the length of Kakashi's arms wrapping their way around his waist before Iruka could fully process the solid weight of the other man pressed against him.

Now, sitting before the Memorial Stone, Iruka recalled closing his eyes and turning his head into the touch, Kakashi's breath against his cheek warming and unhampered by the presence of his mask. The embrace felt like morning pleasantries and small banter, the subtle press of gloved hands as they compelled Iruka closer reminiscent of Kakashi's tendency to verbally provoke and how often Iruka gave in to said attention-seeking ways.

The reminder of that reminder flustered Iruka to no end, as he began to stare hard at the names of his parents. He felt himself turn red, as he was wont to do, to think of all the times Kakashi had purposely riled him up only for him to indulge the jonin's sadistic sense of companionship, and that it felt no different to reciprocating his touch in that moment: heated, exhilarating, intense...familiarity by another name.

“I thought, maybe, I'd gone insane, when I didn't have to drag him to the hospital by force,” Iruka mentioned, his parents already knowing who the 'him' was. He refrained from speaking Kakashi's name out loud, keeping his voice low and his eyes watchful, as he remained always aware of his surroundings... “I thought it would be harder, but, it wasn't.”

Iruka's eyes wandered to the distant outskirts.

“I thought this would be harder,” he whispered.

They talked, as they ate, but of what subjects and interests Iruka could hardly think to now. Their routine continued on as though unencumbered by change, because nothing had changed, the added element of intimacy but a small piece that fit perfectly in a puzzle of a picture the chunin could not yet clearly see. It was as he went to lock his door, on their way out, and three Anbu appeared before them that he remembered the reality of their predicament, their roles as superior and subordinate...and now lovers. The sight of Anbu rendered Iruka noticeably uneasy, he knew, both the pervasive chill and his apprehension to their presence leaving him a rosier shade than ever before, but Kakashi appeared unfazed by their sudden and unannounced appearance, standing with his hands tucked within the warmth of his pant pockets.

 _“Hokage-sama,”_ they said in unison, also bowing in unison, and Iruka took it from Kakashi's indifference as a cue to accept that their existence was nothing new. They had always been there, he knew, always watching and always alert, there to ensure the Hokage's safety. The chunin knew what it felt like, the awesome aura of power that members of Anbu emanated, so his surprise came only from being jolted back from his fantasy world in which only he and Kakashi existed.

_“Gazelle. Gorilla. Did Morino-san send for you?”_

_“No, Hokage-sama,”_ the Anbu wearing the Gazelle masked said.

The Gorilla-masked Anbu supplied, _“Mitarashi-san and Yamashiro-san, sir.”_

 _“Of course.”_ Kakashi glanced back at Iruka, ever so briefly, and Iruka hadn't needed to imagine the smile behind the mask. _“What has Anko and Aoba assigned for you today, mm?”_ Gazelle and Gorilla looked to each other then, somewhat taken aback by Kakashi's innate amusement, and the tension Iruka had began to feel at the prospect of their respective roles dissipated into a subtle smile.

_“We are to accompany you to the hospital, sir.”_

_“Oh?”_

_“How did you—?”_ Iruka had cut himself off, the question that escaped him answered by the burn in his cheeks, the three pairs of eyes staring back at him all too unbearably knowing. _“Never mind.”_

 _“Ma,”_ Kakashi had turned to his Anbu attendants and shrugged. _“Are they not confident in my ability to take myself to the hospital?”_

 _“Hokage-sama?”_ Iruka could hear the uncomfortable wince behind Gorilla's mask.

_“It's true, Hokage-sama. Mitarashi-san and Yamashiro-san sent us to assist you in your travels, under the knowledge that you have not yet seen a medic-nin after the recent attack. We are to aid you in the secrecy of the trip so not to cause alarm in the public eye.”_

Of course, Iruka thought then, locking his door with a definitive 'clink'. To see the Hokage-sama visiting the hospital after an attack could only be perceived in so many ways. Either they themselves were in need of medical attention, which brought into question the current state in strength and vigilance of the village leader, or that enough had fallen, injured or worse, in the line of duty as to warrant a visit from the Hokage. Iruka had known the same to be true, both in the case of Hiruzen-sama and Tsunade-sama, and that neither circumstance was all that ideal from the perspective of public image.

 _“Ma, I'm offended,”_ Kakashi mused, bobbing on the ball of his feet. _“Do Anko and Aoba think so lowly of my ability to surrender myself to the hospital when need be?”_

_“No, Hokage-sama!”_

_“Not at all, sir.”_

Yes, Iruka had thought then. Yes, and with good reason, the chunin knowing the jonin to be far more invested in the wellbeing of others well above and before himself. It showed in his actions, not his simple quirks of immaturity or stubbornness but a compulsive disregard for himself while acting for the sake of others. Iruka had known as much, since his mission days, when he briefly served as supplemental reinforcement on a team led by Kakashi.

Iruka's gaze had happened upon the doormat beneath his feet, as he smiled, his understanding of the man beside him a comforting realization in the face of a formal confrontation.

_“Our duty is to aid in Umino-sensei's concealed travel as well as the Hokage-sama's.”_

_“Umino-sensei is accompanying you, sir, is he not?”_

Iruka felt himself still then, in breath and heartbeat, the memory of doing so causing him to react similarly now at the Memorial Stone. The consideration in Kakashi's visible eye, as he looked to him then, coupled with the Anbu and their unrelenting stares, had forced Iruka out of his ruminations and into the moment, where the world too had stalled, evidently awaiting his input.

 _“Of course,”_ he had said, quickly amending, _“As the Hokage's assistant, I will be accompanying him to the hospital...”_

“As was my privilege,” he said to his parents, ascending to bent knees to sit against the back of his legs. “I didn't say that out loud, thank Kami, but that's what I was thinking, standing there, with him smiling at me...I could see him smiling, too, really smiling. Not that one-eyed-smile thing he does, where he thinks he's compensating for wearing a mask but he's not—it just makes him look vaguely up to something...” Iruka sighed, smiling down at his parents' names, hearing the laughter of his father and seeing the knowing grin of his mother...

_“Maa...Iruka-sensei has chosen to remain my plus one, for today's venture.”_

“It's common for the Hokage's assistant to accompany them wherever they go, I know that. Shizune-san and Tsunade-sama were always very close, but I wonder how it must have felt...” Iruka paused in consideration to the many instances in which the two women, dear friends above all else, had to work to balance their personal and professional relationship. “They made it look so easy,” he breathed, scratching the bridge of his nose. “I couldn't stop thinking about last night, while at the hospital, I admit. I took notes of the procedure, for official record keeping, but I'm surprised I even heard a thing the attending medic-nin said.”

_“Who administered the initial treatment?”_

_“I did.”_

_“The dressing of this wound is most satisfactory work, Umino-san, though one would expect as much from any Academy sensei worth their weight.”_

_“Thank you, Michizoe-san.”_

_“The stitching's given way, however.”_

_“My bad.”_

Iruka recalled standing aside, against the wall of a heavily guarded and secluded hospital suite, to watch as Konoha Hospital's premier surgeon and veteran shinobi assessed and healed the gravity of the Rokudaime's injuries. The chunin spent the majority of the time attempting to focus solely on the green glow of Michizoe-san's Mystical Palm Technique but found himself challenged by the equally determined stare of an unrelenting jonin.

Kakashi sat on the exam room table, gripping its edge with terminally gloved hands, his naked torso, taut and trim, constricting involuntarily to the bluntness of Michizoe-san's clinical touch. The infamously detached man had flinched, despite himself, as the room's low hanging fixtures of fluorescent light cast dark shadows down his pale skin, the frigid temperature meant to ensure a sterile and sanitized environment forced goosebumps to form beneath the wispy white hairs on his arms, chest, abdomen, and Iruka found himself sucking in a subtle breath at the epiphany of Kakashi's discomfort of being medically examined.

_“I deem you in optimal physical fitness, Kakashi-sama, all things considered. Another pass of chakra circulation and the weight of the pain should lift. The most severe of your injuries was indeed the deep stab wound that, another few centimeters to the right, might have dealt your heart a heavy blow. Your failure to seek proper medical treatment within a timely manner might have resulted in infection, which would have traveled externally from your left subclavian and common carotid arteries and into you mitral heart valve, had Umino-san not seen fit to tend to the wound. So, though you maintain your physical health, I feel obligated to ask.”_

_“Ask away, Michizoe-san,”_ Kakashi sighed, beneath a surgical mask, his voice a harsh timbre that did not send a chill up Iruka's spine, not at all... The hospital was quite cold, after all. Iruka kept himself from the occasional shiver by keeping his arms crossed against his chest, tucked in tight, only moving to jot down dictations on his clipboard. Iruka thought then and there to invest in a recording device similar to the one he often saw Anko-san use.

 _“Is a session in word association in order?”_ Michizoe-san asked, sitting back in his swivel stool, his world-weary gaze unfazed by the preemptive belligerence in his patient's visible eye. _“Shall I flag down someone in psych analysis and proceed with an evaluation on your mental and emotional state?”_

_“Ma, I agreed to take a psych evaluation just before I made Hokage.”_

_“My understanding is that it was a very fleeting psych evaluation, Kakashi-sama, given the urgency of the situation.”_

_“The urgency of the situation? Pray tell, Michizoe-san, the urgency of the situation.”_

_“You are a leader by necessity, Hatake Kakashi.”_

_“My, my... Is that what the ancients think of me.”_

_“Who are you calling ancient?”_

_“Michizoe-san,”_ Iruka had intervened, sensing the rise of their ire, and earned both of the other two men's hardened stare. Michizoe Hideaki was an experienced shinobi, a candid man, over thirty years their senior and temperamental for the hassle of having survived into old age. Iruka knew him only through his renowned status but, from the onset of their visit, he observed a familiarity between Kakashi and the man he often discussed in his classes. Tugging at the grey hairs of his beard, his eyes narrowed and impatient, the man who perfected the technique of the chakra scalpel pursed his thinning lips to have to await the rest of Iruka's interruption. _“I can attest to the mental and emotional health of Kakashi-sama. The Hokage's commitment to the safety of Konoha is the reason why he failed to seek proper treatment right away. Securing the surrounding villages became his top priority and, in doing so, he disregarded his own wellbeing.”_

 _“Is this true?”_ Michizoe-san asked Kakashi but the jonin shrugged.

_“Would it be advantageous of me to agree?”_

_“I'll rephrase the question.”_ Iruka shook his head then, casting his eyes downward, aware enough to express enough shame for the both of them. Kakashi looked to him, his one-eyed stare hellbent in indifference and searching for validation, but Iruka looked away adamantly and found, out of the corner of his eye, Gazelle and Gorilla remaining professionally removed from the discussion. _“Is Umino-san of an authority to speak on your mental and emotional stability, Kakashi-sama?”_

 _“Yes.”_ Kakashi patted down the front of his pants to the tune of a playful hum. _“I think we're done here, Hideaki.”_

Iruka released the clench of his hands, balled into fists against the front of his own pants, sitting at the Memorial Stone.

“Michizoe-san was a teammate to the White Fang,” Iruka said to his parents, his eyes downcast. “After the failure of the Great Mission Michizoe-san turned against Sakumo-san, much like the rest of Konohagakure, but I'm sure you guys already knew that...” Kakashi had explained as much to him, as they departed, the jonin's desire to leave the hospital apparent in the swiftness of his cool strides. Iruka remembered wondering if Gazelle and Gorilla could even keep up with him but, since he himself managed to keep in step, Iruka reasoned they were in no rush, just near enough to ensure the Hokage's safety and concealed journey from the hospital to the Hokage's office. “He's nothing if not interesting, right?”

Iruka dropped his head, heaving a heavy sigh against his chest, before he turned his gaze to the skies.

“It's been some time since I've last come to visit, I know,” Iruka whispered, closing his eyes. “I miss you guys, but, I know you're doing fine without me. You're at peace.” He smiled at the thought. “I'd forgotten what that felt like...peace.” Not since before the Fourth Shinobi War could he recall a time he truly felt at peace, with his environment, his work, or with himself. The additional toll of being the Hokage's assistant felt like adding fuel to an incredible flame that had already consumed him and yet he would have asked for nothing less, if again given the opportunity, because a part of him begged for the burden.

A part of him wanted for the daily challenge of being Umino Iruka, the dutiful shinobi that the village had come to know and expected him to be, just as he feared a part of him wanted nothing more than for the constant burn of being with Hatake Kakashi.

“Okaa-san, Oto-san, please...help me understand.” The smiling faces of his parents vanished, as Iruka finally opened his eyes, but the inherent panic he'd come to expect in reliving their absence did not overwhelm him as per usual. Iruka didn't feel like panicking at all, in fact, which he realized was the problem. “It can't be this easy, can it?”

“Iruka-sensei?” Iruka jerked his head around and smiled at the surprise that greeted him. Sarutobi Konohamaru stood taller than he last remembered, or maybe the boy—now, a young man—simply carried himself differently, and Iruka had to remind himself that this was not the same hellion that had given him no shortage of trouble at the Academy but a capable shinobi now and a leader in his own right, having assembled genin task forces for additional support during the war.

“Konohamaru,” Iruka said, waving generously, and Konohamaru returned the gesture.

“I thought that was you, Iruka-sensei,” the now fellow chunin said, approaching the Memorial Stone. The young man bowed his head, in respects to the memorial site, before settling against the ground beside Iruka. “They've got a team of us patrolling the main roads for any suspicious activity. I wasn't sure it was you at first so, on our next round, I thought I'd come investigate.” Konohamaru beamed.

“It's nice to see you, too, Konohamaru,” Iruka said, truly happy to see him, though his former student's innate air of mischief always put him on high alert for any foolishness. He quickly hid the current conflict within his heart with the cheerful visage he wore when treating the younger man to a bowl at Ichiraku's and did his best to forego the sensei persona he no longer cared to apply to Konohamaru. “How do you like your duties?”

“Eh, not bad,” Konohamaru said, shrugging, his gaze wandering off to the long stretch of road distanced behind them. “Hate that it's like this, you know, having to look out for the enemy in our own backyard? How messed up is that, Iruka-sensei?”

“Mm,” Iruka hummed, considering the question. “History is filled with instances of the enemy existing within the walls of our home but that enemy is always hate. Hate has no affiliation, Konohamaru. It's only goal is chaos and destruction.”

“I guess,” Konohamaru grumbled, “but I should be out on missions right now, with Udon-kun and Moegi-chan, not wandering around the village! We should be going after Amegakure! They're the ones responsible, right?”

“Konohamaru...” Iruka looked to his hands, considering his words carefully, the glint of the stone before them catching his line of sight. “Amegakure is not responsible for attacking Konoha or the surrounding villages. The perpetrators at fault are a faction of people led by an unknown assailant who's taken advantage of Amegakure’s war-torn history. We must resist the urge to condemn an entire village for the actions of those who would usurp their integrity and perpetuate violence. I think it's best to remember the many evils we’ve bred here, in the Hidden Leaf, and then consider how unfounded it would be for other nations to blame the whole Land of Fire for all the terror we've caused them.”

Konohamaru said nothing, staring hard at the Memorial Stone, and Iruka couldn't help but scratch at the bridge of his nose as he worried over whether or not his words would reach the youngest remaining of the Sarutobi legacy.

“Do you understand what I'm saying, Konohamaru?”

“I hate it when you make sense, Iruka-sensei.” Konohamaru kicked his legs out from under him and sat, knees bent, with his arms wrapped around his shins.

Iruka grinned.

“That sounds like something Oji-chan would say,” Konohamaru whined, “and that old man was usually never wrong.”

“Exactly,” Iruka nodded, smiling still, “and, despite all the hell you put that man through, you still listened to him.”

“Yeah...” Konohamaru held his legs tighter, his eyes alight with the Memorial Stone, and sighed. “I wish he was still here, sometimes.”

“So do I.”

“Sometimes I like to come here and just sit and talk to him, you know? Oji-chan always knew what to say, even if I didn't wanna hear it. I'll just sit here and chill and imagine all his sage lectures. Sounds ridiculous, I know.”

“Not at all,” Iruka insisted, looking to the other chunin with an overwhelming sense of camaraderie. “It's natural to want to talk to the people you love, even if they're no longer with us. I do the same,” he admitted, earning a hopeful grin from his former student. “It's true! I use to come to the Memorial Stone, almost every day, and talk to my parents.” Iruka looked to the sky, where the image of his parents shined the brightest. “I imagine the way they might look if they were alive today. I share with them my hopes and dreams but also my struggles, because they could always convince me that everything would be okay.”

“Is that what you were doing before I showed up?”

Iruka nodded.

“I haven't been to visit in a while, but I found I couldn't help myself today.”

“I know what you mean...” Konohamaru reached forward, tracing Sarutobi Hiruzen's name with a stubby finger. “I wonder what he would have done about the attacks.”

“Knowing Hiruzen-sama, he would have quelled the opposition with only his adamantine staff.”

“Yeah.” Konohamaru chuckled. “They wouldn't have even tried, were Oji-chan still around.”

“Maybe.”

Iruka assumed the look of a man deep in thought, the implication of Konohamaru's words an uncomfortable but interesting distraction to consider. Iruka remembered hearing similar talk when Tsunade initially took office, her every decision scrutinized by civilians and the shinobi class alike. Not that it shocked Iruka to hear the same of Kakashi but it did cause him pause to speculate. There hadn't been much time for proactive measures and, as such, the differences in approach toward the recent attack might not have amounted to much. Still...there was no denying the differences in leadership styles between Hiruzen and Kakashi. Where Hiruzen remained ever present and available, a clear discouragement to any would-be threats to Konohagakure, Kakashi worked in the shadows, infrequently and fleetingly so, encouraging the outward perception of vulnerability.

“Konoha is still home to many great shinobi that are formidable and world renown, Kakashi-sama included. I believe the attacks would have happened, either way, given the longstanding turmoil in Amegakure.”

“I guess... This belief wouldn't have anything to do with you being the Hokage-sama's lackey, now, huh?”

_“Looks like the Hokage's lackey's done zoned out again.”_

_“Seriously? We're never gonna get shift clearance if Iruka doesn't start pulling his weight.”_

“Iruka-sensei?” Konohamaru looked to him with a faulty smile and uncertainty in his eyes. “I meant it in a good way, you know.”

“Mm.”

Iruka smiled for good measure but masked a growing grief all the same.

“Hey.”

Konohamaru nudged his shoulder with a playful fist-bump, the sympathy in his eyes as formidable as the burden of judgment Iruka felt at the hands of his fellow shinobi. The chunin sensei remembered then that his former student was many things but dense was not one of them.

“The missions room is boring and noisy, sometimes,” Konohamaru explained, shrugging. “Talk like that gets around, sure, but they're just jealous you're such good friends with the Rokudaime: Our most powerful shinobi. I mean, what can they do?” The newly appointed chunin grinned madly. “You're untouchable.”

“Right,” Iruka muttered, his smile having grown sheepish, as he realized Konohamaru didn't know the half of what others meant by their words, what Iruka had become to the Rokudaime, not that Iruka was certain he knew himself. It was, however, clear to him that his former student did regard their current leader in high esteem. Konohamaru's eyes lit up in reverence, at the mere mention of his title, and the sudden and irrational need to defend Kakashi left him. His words couldn't do the jonin justice, after all, not when the daily routine of camaraderie and resilience that had set Konoha on the path of aiding its neighboring villages spoke greater volumes to how similar Kakashi was to Hiruzen.

“Iruka-sensei.”

“Uh-huh,” Iruka said, somewhat dazed, the time in which Konohamaru's lofty grin had formed into a somber thin line the span of a heartbeat. “What's wrong, Konohamaru?”

The younger chunin went to speak and stopped himself, noticeably hesitant to continue, his eyes searching the Memorial Stone for the right words in a way Iruka could relate to.

“Konohamaru,” he repeated, more gently this time, the instinct to coax his former student into sharing his troubles exasperating even to him. “It's alright. You can tell me.” Iruka could only imagine the long-winded yet somehow clipped remark Kakashi would make on his predictable behavior. Instead of feeling flustered or annoyed by the imagining, Iruka felt the beginnings of a knowing smile tug at the corners of his lips.

“Have you seen him?”

“Eh?”

“Naruto.”

The question caught Iruka off-guard, having preoccupied himself of late with thoughts that didn't completely revolve around the usually spirited blonde shinobi, but he recovered and replied with an encouraging grin, “Not since the other day...” before that grin quickly turned as he recalled the circumstances under which he'd last seen Naruto. “His team was assigned a mission of diplomacy between us and Amegakure, right before the attack.”

“Oh,” Konohamaru breathed, offering a slow nod. “I guess that's why I only saw him heading out to Nishimura, before he left for his mission?”

Iruka nodded back, now incapable of thinking about anyone but Naruto. When all others were ordered to stay clear of Konoha's second most devastated sister village, it was Naruto who led a squadron of shinobi back into its village proper to subdue a great number of the supposed henchmen and faith followers that had gone unchecked before then. It was the result of this large seizure, some fifty attackers captured alive to be brought in for interrogation and punishment, and the Rokdaime's own leniency that saved him from any real reprimand for his actions.

“A mission of diplomacy, with Amegakure?” Konohamaru looked to the skies, with a shake of his head, newly invigorated by an obvious contempt at the idea proposed by his own words. “Look at what they did to us, to our nation, and we're still trying to be all buddy-buddy with 'em? To hell with 'em!”

“Konohamaru, please,” Iruka chided, back in full sensei-mode, welcoming the authority that came so natural to him when having to combat the ignorance of a former student he knew should know better. “Why are you letting the actions of a few overshadow what you know to be true of Ame? A village that has been war torn for decades can't suddenly be at fault for all its inner turmoil.”

“Naruto, Iruka-sensei,” Konohamaru bit in, his tone rather harsh, but Iruka took it in stride. “How is he?”

“I don't know,” Iruka said, without further provocation, “I really don't know, Konohamaru.” The admission escaped him as easily as the deep sigh that followed, because he didn't know how Naruto was doing, not at all, and that now troubled him as much as the look of devastation on Konohamaru's face. As the protective and nurturing sensei others had always teased him for being, he wanted nothing more than to reassure the young man who had become very close to Naruto, as much like a brother as he himself, but because Konohamaru was no longer a child in need of coddling Iruka had nothing but the harsh truth to offer the younger chunin. “The last I spoke with him was after he came back from Nishimura, when I treated him to Ichiraku's, and even then...”

Iruka look to Konohamaru, sharing his grief.

“In all my life, I'd never felt more closed off to him. There was no smile, no joy, no laughter... I felt faced with a stone wall. You know how he is...” Iruka trailed on, his eyes drifting away. “Even when he's down, Naruto does his best to please others...to uplift people. He'll talk about trivial things, things that are hopeful and entertaining, but the other day...”

Iruka shook his head, for what felt like the umpteenth time that day, as he looked beyond Konohamaru and straight into a not so distant past. Orders of a temporary hold on all offensive and defensive maneuvering had just come down and had seen Iruka depart from his assigned team, in the hopes of running into the erstwhile whisker-pocked hero of the village. To hear Uzumaki Naruto had returned from Nishimura with prisoners in tow released a fear in Iruka that did not fully dissipate until Naruto approached him to make good on that promise of ramen.

“Naruto talked about the frontline, Konohamaru,” Iruka uttered, disbelieving still. “He talked about the many prisoners he'd brought in, what he managed to obtain from them, and the damage done to Nishimura. There was nothing there in his eyes…only grief.”

“Grief?” Konohamaru balked. “What for? He brought in the biggest roundup of attackers and secured Nishimura.” Konohamaru searched the ground beneath them for an answer Iruka couldn't supply. “I mean, I know some people in the village still look down on him, doubt him, but he knows he kicks ass, right? I don't understand.”

“I don't think we're meant to understand,” Iruka said, searching his thoughts and thinking critically of what he hoped to say to make sense of Naruto's recent behavior to the younger chunin sitting beside him. Placing his hands against his knees and furrowing his brow, he said, “What we see, Konohamaru, is what we understand, and that is that Naruto is hurting right now. His pain has always been apparent, since bringing Sasuke to justice, but I think it's only gotten worst since Tsunade-sama's passing. Surely, you understand that?”

Iruka didn't have to look at Konohamaru to see that he did. The other chunin held his own knees with his hands and gripped them tightly at the mention of their fallen leader.

“What Naruto needs most from us now is space,” Iruka said, braving a grand albeit sad smile. “He's still a shinobi of the Hidden Leaf, still one of us, but to mistake his sense of duty for recovery would be negligent of us.”

“Right. I think I understand, Iruka-sensei,” Konohamaru breathed, failing his own pitiful smile. “A lot's going on with him, I get that... I guess I just wish he didn't feel like he had to go it alone, you know?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Barely anyone sees him around these days.”

Iruka said nothing as to why. The chunin sensei allowed his former student to mull over the many possibilities, quietly to himself, but remained silent in this regard. Konohamaru slumped into his already slouched over posture, letting his hands dangle limply over his crossed legs until his fingers met with the dirt ground beneath them. In the silence, Iruka thought of Naruto's growing exclusivity and how he now spent most of his time visiting the contentious Uchiha he called friend in prison. Iruka never wondered how much or how little others paid attention to Naruto's comings and goings, whether his activities of late were meant to be secret or not, but he reasoned that if Naruto had wanted Konohamaru to know he would have told him himself.

After all, Naruto was entitled to his own truths and his own secrets.

“I don't think Naruto's the only one in pain, Iruka-sensei,” Konohamaru said lowly, but the words rang true and deafening to the chunin sensei's ears. The perceptive prying of Konohamaru's stare both frightened and impressed Iruka, his sad smile growing apprehensive at the sight. “Even from the road, I could tell you looked troubled. Is it about the attack or Naruto-kun, Iruka-sensei?”

At first, Iruka thought to dismiss the idea of either, to instead show resilience and optimism for his former student to emulate...not to share in his troubles with Konohamaru. Except Konohamaru was no longer a child to be comforted with dismissive words but a comrade to trust and confide in when needed, and the young man's patient silence and coaxing grin just happened to be the friendly support Iruka needed.

“Not long ago I was dismissed from duty for being too distracted.”

“What?” Konohamaru clutched his chest and donned a look of horror, one so over-the-top and teasing that Iruka found himself countering with an easy snicker and a playful shove to Konohamaru's person. “Umino Iruka, Konoha's most no-nonsense and hardworking son was dismissed from duty for being too distracted?”

“I admit it's not like me.”

“Not at all, Iruka-sensei. What's on your mind?”

“Duty,” Iruka said, speaking candidly but with surprising ease. “Even the most no-nonsense, hardworking son of Konoha grows weary of responsibility. Now that you're a chunin, Konohamaru, I'm sure you're beginning to see how difficult it can be to balance your personal life and your work life and determining when to separate the two. You'll never stop questioning the people in your life, your relationships, and what it means to remember your place in them.”

“Iruka-sensei?”

“It's not the Academy at all, really. I love my students. I love teaching and knowing that I'm responsible for making sure the next generation of shinobi succeed in the necessary foundation that’s required to progress as shinobi, to protect the Land of Fire. My work at the missions room isn't nearly as insufferable as it should be, what with all the jonin egos on display and the petty gossip and drama. In fact, despite being dismissed, securing the neighboring villages has come as something of a relief from...”

“From what, Iruka-sensei?”

Iruka stopped himself from saying anymore, lest he say something revealing even to himself. With the rub of his eyes, and a frown, he looked to the Memorial Stone with poignant consideration for the thoughts still mulling around in his head, the memories that had rendered him inept by the standards of his colleagues, and exhaled a stuttering sigh.

“Iruka?”

The hand against his shoulder was comforting, reassuring, and Iruka awarded Konohamaru's support with an appreciative glance in his direction.

“Things are changing, Konohamaru,” he continued, still looking to his former student. “I think it's safe to say things have been changing since before Tsunade-sama's death, but it wasn't until...the attack did it occur to me just how much. Not that I'm all that sure what's going on, exactly, or that I could say if I did know,” Iruka stated, slowly, his eyes catching onto the many leaves swirling around them. “Some day soon, I'm going to be tasked with an assignment that will only confirm whether or not this change is good or bad.” In more ways than one, Iruka thought to himself, the sudden wind that tousled Konohamaru's hair and whipped about Iruka's ponytail evoking the memory of Kakashi reemerging from his morning routine to greet the chunin with a firm embrace.

Iruka shivered.

“I knew it,” Konohamaru said, staring Iruka down with alarming alertness. “It's true, isn't it?”

“Eh?” Iruka looked every which way, in a cartoonish fashion, the sudden beads of sweat against his brow accompanying the red flush of his cheeks. “Wh-what? Knew what? What's true?”

“Jonin are maniacally egotistical jerks, pretty much, but I tend to believe them when they come back from far off places with whispers of things about to happen.”

“Things about to happen?” Konohamaru nodded. “What do you mean by things about to happen?”

Konohamaru slid closer, with his legs still crossed, and lowered his voice as he murmured, “Well, it's no secret that the village is getting low on manpower. Apart form the few S-and-A Class assignments that can't be avoided, everyone can tell that no one's taking on any missions that can be absolutely avoided.”

“I know,” Iruka said, somewhat sadly. “I think that's the only reason why missions room work has gotten so tolerable, lately.”

“According to the jonin that have traveled long enough and far enough, there's going to be a shake-up at the top of the shinobi world. People in the know expect a meeting of the Shinobi Union to deal with things like the dwindling numbers and all the other post-war stuff that’s been popping up in other places. I know, I know... You can't say anything, Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka didn't say a word, as there wasn't much else he could add to what Konohamaru seemed to know. As his only exposure to such knowledge came via the often neglected missives and paperwork hardly reviewed by the Rokudaime, Iruka had remained dutifully mum about such high-level intelligence. Knowing what he knew, and with official confirmation, only compounded the unease he felt upon entering the Hokage's offices to appear before the likes of Anko-san, Aoba-san, and Ibiki-san.

“How 'bout this, Iruka-sensei; blink once if what I'm saying might be true and twice if I'm wrong.”

“You're not wrong, Konohamaru.”

That wiped the ridiculous grin off Konohamaru's only too eager face.

“Gah, Iruka-sensei!” he whined, flinging his arms in a huff. “I was makin' a game of it! Besides, I'm not supposed to know highly classified information like that!”

“I trust you, unconditionally, Sarutobi Konohamaru.”

“G’aw, Iruka-sensei...” Iruka grinned in the face of Konohamaru's embarrassment, relishing the way the young man rubbed at the nape of his neck in earnest. “So what's this assignment you've got? Is it in the field?”

“You could say that.”

“You can't tell me,” Konohamaru realized out loud, frowning. Iruka lifted a hand to Konohamaru's hair and ruffled it loose of its expertly slicked-back appearance, its state he easily imagined having gone over well with the younger chunin's romantic interests.

“Sorry, Konohamaru,” Iruka sighed, leaning back with a smile, “but I'm sworn to confidentiality as decreed by the Rokudaime.”

“Show off.”

“I'm sorry, what was that?”

“I asked if you were ready, Iruka-sensei.”

“Mm?” Iruka looked to his slyly grinning comrade with a sly smile of his own. “Ready for what?”

“Well,” Konohamaru paused, making faces, “if your assignment's in the field, shouldn't you train to prepare yourself for any potential threats on your travels?” the younger chunin stroked his chin in mocking jest. “I do recall a certain Academy instructor of mine who taught me that much.”

“Ha, ha,” Iruka shot back, socking Konohamaru in the arm with a loosely-gripped fist, but a sudden anxiousness overcame him as Konohamaru dramatically nursed his arm. “I didn't think about that,” he mentioned, staring blankly into the surrounding training fields.

“No offense, Iruka-sensei, but when's the last time you've been out on a mission? Can you even fight anymore?” With that, Konohamaru climbed to his feet with a triumphant smirk and stood with his hands held firmly at his waist, staring down at Iruka. “Well?”

Iruka climbed to his feet, painstakingly slow in his movements, mimicking Konohamaru's stance with his own seasoned sensei gait. He looked to the Memorial Stone and thought his parents a fond farewell and a promise to return sooner and more often before rising to the younger chunin’s challenge.

Konohamaru’s recent growth spurt saw him nearly on par with Iruka, but the smile growing dangerously sinister on his former sensei's face caused the grandson of the Sandaime to cower with instant regret as they both stood before the Memorial Stone.

“Would you like to find out, Konohamaru?”

A sweat bead against his temple, Konohamaru replied, “I'd be honored, Iruka-sensei.”

 

* * *

  
Kakashi touched down to the familiar sight of Team Gai trading blows on the training fields closest to the marketplace. Knowing Gai rather well, he predicted the other man’s fondness for assisting the elderly as they hobbled through the crowds wouldn't see him anywhere but in the vicinity of the shops. Helping the common masses at a civilian level had always been Gai's truest calling, Kakashi believed. If only the villagers possessed the same amount of due diligence and skill to endure the enigmatic man in all his animated and insufferable glory.

“Ehk!” Hinata exclaimed, a surprised whimper escaping her, but she quickly recovered with a bow of respect and a red face in apology. It was she that Kakashi had spotted without the need of a trained eye, as Team Gai flitted about the sky in swift procession, standing below her fallen cousin's team with idle amusement in her eyes. Only when she realized the village’s leader standing next to her did she turn into her usually timid self. “My apologies, Hokage-sama, I didn't see you there.”

“Hinata, please,” Kakashi dismissed her formality with a paddling of his hands, “there's no need to apologize, and you can be less formal. We're all friends here, mm?” He smiled with his eye and saw that it was enough to appease her nerves.

“Mm,” she nodded. “Yes, Kakashi-sama.”

“How long have they been up there?” he asked, turning his sights back onto the skies above them. Tenten's brief reappearance from stealth resulted in the release of a stunning and elaborate weapons display before she again disappeared from the discernible eye.

“Not long ago,” Hinata answered, smiling toward Team Gai's movements. “With everyone being re-purposed, there was no one to take them at the missions room. They came here, instead.”

“I see.”

Of course, Kakashi thought, given the current state of affairs. He knew from personal experience that the immediacy of reporting from duty was not always a necessity either, a fact taken to heart so ardently that it often landed him in the path of a certain wrathful chunin.

“This is as good a solution to downtime as any, I suppose,” the jonin hummed, somewhat amused by his self-proclaimed eternal rival’s near addiction to training. Not that he believed there to be anything wrong with such dedication and discipline, of course, just that he recalled how a certain wrathful chunin found an indisputable amount of silliness to Gai’s ways and couldn’t help but feel the same in that moment.

Still, it would have been near impossible to catch the other man’s attention while so honed in on his former students and now fellows without Kakashi having to join the fray himself.

“I don’t think they’ll be finished anytime soon,” Hinata offered, as if reading Kakashi’s mind. Now it was Rock Lee who reappeared for the briefest iota of time to produce a roundhouse kick against another green blur of larger build and flare. “If there’s something you’d like to say to Gai-sensei I’d be happy to relay the message.”

“I’ll wait.”

“Okay.”

The two stood in agreeable silence, Hinata’s occasional display of unease or anxiety toward the regularly brutal bout of training on display a personality quirk Kakashi had long since grown accustom to enduring.

The Rokudaime of Konohagakure sighed with unbothered complacency as he remained unnoticed if not outright ignored by what remained of Team Gai. He felt the corners of his lips bend into a smile of his own spurring, not one of a Hokage at the helm of a nation facing the imminent danger of an ongoing threat but that of a soldier enjoying a good show of camaraderie, fighting spirit, and what their enemies had to look forward to if they dared to mess with the Land of Fire any further.

“I…I never got to congratulate you, Kakashi-sama, on your promotion to Hokage,” Hinata spoke out, from the loudness of her thoughts, but with a voice so soft and so low that the breeze in the air threatened to carry it away. “I wasn’t sure if it would have been appropriate to, considering…” Kakashi’s smile, in every capacity, broadened beneath the veil of his mask. The look of apprehension in Hinata’s bright taaffeite-white eyes encouraged a teasing streak in himself he knew very few people would refuse to tolerate, a streak a certain chunin sensei would passionately defy and call out on the young woman’s behalf.

“Maa… I think congratulations should be given to everyone, considering the circumstances. Congratulate yourself, Hinata, for the good fortune you had to have not succumbed to the same fate as Tsunade-sama. You honor her death in life. Acknowledging the position I now hold in her absence is reverence for the role she once played in our lives. That way any congratulation toward my current title is an extension of your respect for her.”

“You disappeared during your own inauguration ceremony, Kakashi-sama,” Hinata mentioned, a hint of accusation perfectly fused with misery in her wafer-thin tone. “There’s a rumor spreading that it wasn’t you at all but a clone, in fact…”

“Did I? Was it? Mm…that was such a long time ago,” he sighed, “I can hardly remember—”

“Kakashi-sama.” Hinata’s cheeks flared red, her eyes squelching in weary disdain. “I-I saw you. Everyone did.”

“Okay, okay,” Kakashi shrugged, raising his hands in defense of his own terrible actions. “It was a clone.”

“Kakashi-sama!”

“It wasn’t my finest moment, I’m sure of it, but I meant no disrespect. I’ve already been chewed out for my actions.”

“I bet…by Iruka-sensei?” she suggested, a crinkle of a smile on her face, and Kakashi knew that smile. It was Anko’s smile…a phantom of the same stupid grin his ninken wore.

“On the contrary, actually,” Kakashi chose to ignore it. “Iruka-sensei couldn’t have been more grateful to discover it wasn’t me…” At Hinata’s stunned stare, he added, “I know, I was similarly surprised by the sentiment. He felt it offensive of the elders to have even had the ceremony held so closely after Tsunade’s funeral.”

“I see,” Hinata said, looking to Team Gai once more, and Kakashi believed that she did see, as he saw it, from Iruka’s perspective, through the eyes of a man whose entire life had been and remained so far removed from any comprehension of nobility that such tactful maneuvering seemed callous to a person below the aristocracy of Konoha. “It does seem pretty gross, now that I think about it.”

“All is forgiven then?”

Kakashi and Hinata shared another polite smile.

Rock Lee and Tenten stopped, midair, to regroup, clearly having worked out a collaboration against their former team leader. Little did they know, as Kakashi knew, Gai was already a step ahead of them, coming in from behind with a two-fold punch.

“Rock Lee! Tenten!” Kakashi called out, just loud enough to gain their disorientation. “On your six!”

They dodged just in time, leaving Gai careening forward as they leapt into opposite directions.

“I do love a good miss,” Kakashi mused, in strangely high spirits, a good mood that had not gone without his careful scrutiny. All day his thoughts had never strayed far from that morning, to when he awoke to the warm embrace of another, Iruka’s proclivity for restless sleeping having landed a good deal of his body squarely on top of the jonin. Kakashi spent a good deal of the early morning simply staring up at the ceiling, letting his eye adjust to the darkness around them, savoring what felt like the calm before the storm, the tranquility brought on by the mere presence of the sleeping chunin enough to reduce the austerity of his vigilance. Kakashi hadn’t heard past the crickets chirping outside, the steady rhythm of Iruka’s breathing, or the gentle beating of his heart as it thudded against his own.

By shinobi standards—hell, by civilian standards—Iruka was a heavy sleeper, a fact Kakashi hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of for a moment. By morning he had wrapped one arm firmly around the other man’s middle while his free hand played in the freed tresses of his hair. Kakashi left trace kisses against the side of Iruka’s face and neck, the warmth of his skin an enticing sensation he found difficult to relinquish.

The jonin had expertly maneuvered out from beneath him but, given the chunin’s deep slumber, it had been an admittedly easy feat. The first light of dawn that had worked its way past the shadows of neighboring buildings bled into the gaps of the closed blinds, blanketing Iruka’s enriched exposed skin with a cool blue glow. Kakashi had spent a great deal of time just staring at Iruka, the peace in his face an external reflection of how Kakashi felt the moment Iruka had invited him back into his bed, his world… Kakashi remembered gliding a finger over the scar across Iruka’s face and letting his mind linger on the indented edges there that had softened with age. The years of exposed scar tissue at his fingertips helped to form a frown on his face.

“Kakashi-sama.”

“Yes, Hinata?” A frown appeared on her face, like the one now hidden behind his mask, as the two shared another glance. Her eyes dimmed with a question Kakashi anticipated with severe foresight.

“What have you…I-I mean, what’s going to happen to…”

“Yes?”

“Naruto,” Hinata said, at long last, her hesitation toward confrontation seemingly forgotten in the mention of the name. “I joined him, in Nishimura, and he wasn’t…he wasn’t well. He seemed happy, after he led the capture of some of the attackers, but it wasn’t him. It wasn’t for him, I mean.” She stopped then, no doubt attempting to consider her words more carefully, but Kakashi got the gist of what she was trying to say. The jonin considered how a part of him had intended for this conversation to happen, as Hinata troubled her hands together and bowed her head, the young woman’s traditionally lone cheerleading of Team Gai’s training bouts an opening he had planned to encounter, more or less, her isolation for him the opportunistic equivalent of shooting a rather passive fish in a barrel. “I apologize, Kakashi-sama, but I’m not making much sense. Am I?”

“Did he discuss with you the particulars of his current mission?”

“Yes,” she said, a small and uncertain smile forming on her lips, “and I think what’s needed now is an act of diplomacy with Amegakure. I fear the attack will only encourage people to think even more unkindly on the Hidden Rain.”

“I see an even trade in approaching the issue this way, nevertheless, I agree with the sentiment.”

“Even if for the sake of appearances, Kakashi-sama, I believe only good could come from helping the Ame return to a level of stability that has resulted in Konoha’s longstanding prosperity.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Hinata, which is why I ordered the mission.”

“…How long do you think you can keep Naruto away from Sasuke-kun?”

“However long it takes to knock some sense into him,” Kakashi replied, not missing a beat. When he looked from the movements of Team Gai to afford Hinata another one-eyed glance, the kunoichi wore a frown of condemnation as impressive as anyone he’d ever seen on a certain Academy sensei. “I would think you, of all people, would agree. Mm?”

“No, Kakashi-sama,” she said, with a firmness Kakashi hadn’t expected, her usually timid demeanor growing less sheepish and more assertive by the second. “I don’t think it was a mistake to send Naruto and Team 7 on a diplomatic mission but barring him access to Sasuke was wrong.”

“How do you figure?”

“He was _happy_ ,” she insisted, earnest sincerity coating her gentle tone. She looked to the ground, frowning still. “It hasn’t been perfect, but, seeing Sasuke helped him cope with what happened. It gave him hope that he could make things right again and…that made him happy.”

“At whose expense, Hinata?” he asked, oddly gentle in his approach, spotting Gai as he stopped to repel a team effort by Tenten and Rock Lee. “The people who depend on him? The people who care about him? His friends? His loved ones? You?”

Hinata struggled to counter which, at that moment, Kakashi knew he’d recovered ground in the argument. That he had predicted the inevitability of this conversation was one thing, but he never once assumed Hinata might not agree with the decision to refuse Naruto unlimited access to the one person Kakashi had thought, at a time that now felt like a fever dream, might be the one to follow in his footsteps.

“Konoha needs Naruto, more now than ever, as I’m sure certain elements of Konoha would like to feel needed by him. He’ll be a leader, someday, one the village can’t deny… Uchiha Sasuke is a distraction that can no longer preoccupy his time. Do you understand?”

“I do, Kakashi-sama,” Hinata said, and Kakashi believed that she did understand. Hinata understood order in chaos; when things didn’t go as planned, a clan stuck to protocol. Structure, in a noble family, bred peace. An argument ended when the principal member of a clan had their final say and the Hyuga clan was no different. The Hokage served as clan head to Konoha and, if need be, judge, juror, and executioner, their word the final nail in the coffin of any dispute.

Surely, given her upbringing, Hinata would not defy him?

“I just want Naruto to be happy,” she finished, the volume of her voice disappearing into the wind, but her eyes never refrained from staring intently against the side of Kakashi’s face. He might have felt their piercing if he wasn’t so utterly numb to the affect.

“Naruto will be happy,” Kakashi murmured, staring up at Team Gai still, “once he’s reminded of all he stands to lose. Time away from the demon he willfully returns to will allow him the clarity to better prioritize said time.”

“How do you know this will help him?”

“Maa…I don’t,” Kakashi admitted, jostling his stationary stance with a carefree shrug of his shoulders. Hinata remained uncertain, desperate for reassurance, but now stood firmer in her footing. Her eyes remained fixed on him, alert, and Kakashi the soldier remembered just how pure and powerful Hinata’s chakra levels were. If anything to the contrary ever befell Naruto, he saw in her eyes that there would be no hiding from her Byakugan or the extent of her fury. “You would know, though, wouldn’t you?”

Kakashi offered a firm stare in return, a knowing glance, one that demanded a response of a soldier to a leader.

“Can I rely on you, Hinata, to be the support Naruto needs whether he knows it or not?”

“Mm,” Hinata said, offering a reverent nod, clasping her hands together as she continued to stare intently at the Rokudaime. Her eyes never waned from an unspoken promise Kakashi eventually agreed to with a subtle nod of his own. “I hope the same can be said after Sasuke-kun’s execution.”

“Kakashi!”

Kakashi didn’t get enough time to recover, his one eye fixated on Hinata’s expressionless stare when Gai touched down on the other side of Hinata, expertly so, his feet barely planted against the ground before his hands took to his hips for a posturing pose.

“Gai,” Kakashi acknowledged, observing Hinata still with little reaction.

“Is training over?” Hinata asked, turning onto her late cousin’s former team leader.

“Life is a training field, Hinata, and it’s never over!” Gai said, beaming, his body a sheen of sweat and what Kakashi detected to be rubbing oil…to avoid chaffing, no doubt. “I just happened to catch sight of you two here, the Youthful and Beautiful Heiress of the Hyuga Clan and the Coolest and Hippest Rokudaime of All Time—”

“—I’m the only Rokudaime…because there can really only be one—”

“—and thought what am I doing up here, with Tenten and Rock Lee, when I can be down there with them?”

“Seriously?” Tenten, having touched down a few feet away, threw her hands against her hips and scoffed.

“Gai-sensei always makes the best poses!” Rock Lee shouted, touching down with a salute in Gai’s direction. Tenten offered him a hateful look as well.

“Maa…the kids finally tired you out, I see?”

“HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!” Gai threw an arm over Hinata and Kakashi both, squeezing them into a tight, wince-inducing hug. “There’s that cool guy demeanor of yours, Kakashi, always making jokes!”

“Gai-sensei?” Hinata choked out, her face turning purple.

“Oh! My utmost apologies, Hinata!” Gai removed himself from her and Kakashi both, to Kakashi’s utmost appreciation, squaring off on Kakashi alone. “I guess I’m still a bit revved up from all those beautifully stunning and outrageously strategic techniques of mine.”

“I guess that’s one way of saying you ran out of ETERNALLY YOUTHFUL tricks up your sleeve and made us chase after you!” Tenten shouted from across the field.

“It’s always a pleasure to catch up with my most Eternal Rival!”

“You have more than one?” Kakashi’s face drooped, sarcastically disheartened by the thought. “I thought I was special.”

“Nonsense!” Gai declared, pulling Kakashi into a tight embrace. “I wouldn’t have anyone but you!”

Kakashi’s face went red and his drooping eye all but cried.

“I’m sure that couldn’t have come out in any better way.”

Hinata put a hand against her reddening face, in surprise and embarrassment, as Tenten covered her face and laughed and Rock Lee held two balled fists up and silently cried at a distance.

“Gai… You’re as strong and as energetic as ever, old friend.”

Gai peeled himself off of Kakashi as, evidently, Kakashi finally said what Gai had wanted to hear.

“Please, Kakashi, you flatter too much.”

“Clearly, just barely enough,” Kakashi mumbled under his breath and, as customary, Gai chose to pretend that he hadn’t heard a word.

“Shall we go for a walk, My Oh So Indulgent Hokage?”

“My, my… What a coincidence,” Kakashi drawled, turning to lead the way. “I was going to suggest the same thing.”

“Gai-sensei,” Hinata started, “what about your training?”

“What about us?” Tenten asked, approaching alongside Rock Lee, their advancement on Gai buzzing with a desire to train longer and harder and to, most importantly, get the better of their former sensei.

“We want to continue training, Gai-sensei,” Rock Lee said, bowing respectfully to his former sensei.

“I just want an excuse to beat you up, Old Man,” Tenten shrugged, making a fist against an open palm.

“I’m afraid such a day might never come, Tenten,” Gai said, chuckling, ruffling the back of his bowl haircut with a hand that shook a little too earnestly in Kakashi’s humble opinion. “If you both can still summon the strength to train, I’m sure Hinata will take no issue with replacing me?”

“Eh?!” Hinata piped out as Gai placed his hands on her shoulders and ushered her forward. “I-I don’t know, I guess…”

“Come on, girl,” Tenten encouraged, smiling, “It’s been a while, no? Let’s see what ya got!”

“I would be honored to train with you, Hinata-chan,” Rock Lee stated, bowing even lower than before, dramatically enough that Kakashi could already see the waterworks threatening to go off in Gai’s emboldened eyes.

“Maa… Are we done here?” Kakashi whined, helplessly.

“It’s just so beautiful,” Gai sniffled, watching as Tenten, Rock Lee, and Hinata flew off into the skies above the training grounds. “They’ve all grown up so fast, so strong…eternally youthful spirits!”

“Uh-huh, okay, let’s go,” Kakashi said, dragging his longtime friend and eternal rival by the collar of his green turtleneck jumpsuit.

 

* * *

  
“It pisses me off, knowing he was right,” Anko grumbled, digging her heels into the stone floor beneath her feet. She looked to Ibiki and Aoba, standing nearest a reinforced plate of transparent glass, and awaited validation. Only Ibiki reacted, standing against a shadowy corner of the stone walls surrounding them, the eerie whiteness of his teeth discharging from the darkness.

“Would you rather he be wrong and risk the lives of many more?”

“Maybe,” she replied, coolly, and Ibiki’s smirk grew to an unfathomable degree. “Only reason we were spared was because of the four-man cells Kakashi had us post at every checkpoint and vulnerable spot in Konoha.”

“What about the squads positioned on the outskirts?” Aoba chimed in, his gaze remaining fixed on the lone figure that sat on the other side of the two-way mirror behind Anko. “Were they able to stop the attacks in Haru, Tanzaku Quarters, Kimura, Nishimura, or Sogen?”

“The attackers and their movements were greatly hindered by their presence,” Ibiki supplied and Anko made an even greater face at the fact.

All three tokubetsu jonin returned to staring down Subject #3M256 as the prisoner sat at the center of an adjacent room with his hands restrained behind the back of his seat. It maintained the panache of the commanding officer, an interrogation room of the Torture and Interrogation Department, with instruments of pain strewn about its stone walls for casual use. The only light source remained a lone lamp hanging above the subject’s head, shining down upon a heap of rags clinging to bloody, grimy flesh that continued to convulse in phantom agony, the remnants of all that had already been done to Subject #3M256 by Commander Morino Ibiki himself.

“Good thing you’re so good at your job, Ibiki-san, or we might’ve never gotten out the last of their hideout migrations.”

Ibki looked over his shoulder, his eyes honing in on a daring wink.

“It is Morino-san’s specialty,” Aoba said, pushing at his goggles.

“Specialty?” Ibiki turned back to the subject beyond the two-way mirror. “It’s my art.”

“I’m sure the subject will give us more insight on their numbers, with more time.”

“Numbers? Yes… Of course, Aoba-san,” Ibiki said, gazing down on his design.

A communication alarm went off and Ibiki turned, the persistent buzz sounding from the device around Aoba-san’s wrist catching his attention.

“Intelligence Division is receiving more recovery intel on the ground. I need to return to the epicenter of the attack so we can finish retracing the attacker’s steps and eliminate any residual assaults.”

“Go,” Ibiki said, adding, “I’ll make sure to inform you and your team if the subject makes any further mention of their movements.”

“Hai!” Aoba said, bowing to Ibiki and Anko both before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

He could feel more than anything Anko approaching in her usual suggestive manner, taunting him with the knowledge he possessed of her body and all that could be done with it. It was the small, subtle details…the gentle touch of her small hands against the broadness of his shoulders, the graze of her overwhelming bosom against his hardened back, and the wry smirk against the cheeky settlement of her fairer features.

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinking?” she said, her arms suspended in the air as she traced the collar of his uniform with playful finger taps.

“Always,” Ibiki replied, “However, and regardless of the fact that we have been left alone to our own devices, we remain in a professional setting and, thus, should refrain from any…business not pertaining to the task at hand.”

“Aw!” she whined, playfully, “you’re no fun…but I wasn’t even going to suggest that, actually.”

“Really?” Ibiki hummed, amusement sounding from the baritone of his voice. “Pray tell, then, what were you going to even suggest?”

“I was thinking another go on the subject might pull the last bit of information we need regarding their followers, whether all of them are even that… Seriously, what are their numbers? How do the worshippers of Otsutsuki Kaguya divvy up their people with Madara’s most devoted and how loyal are any of them to their puppet master, Kabuto?”

“Mm,” Ibiki sounded in agreement.

Anko slapped a hand against the nape of her neck and sighed in exasperation. She looked to Subject #3M256, the way the detestable creature’s head hung low and swayed slightly from side to side, and shook her own head in disgust and dismissal.

“Maybe we should get another one, maybe, one that isn’t hanging on by only a thread of its pitiful existence.”

“Do you doubt my ability, Anko?” Ibiki asked, coming up from behind, his words a heated breath away from her right ear.

“Not at all, darling,” Anko cooed, turning. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t delight in seeing you take a go at more of them.”

“Let us not forget that many of our captives have been subjected to a brand of mental manipulation stemming from a powerful jutsu our science teams have yet to cure or fully deconstruct.”

“Who cares? Unless they give up the goods they give us no other option, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay then… Let’s pull another one of these bastards from Uzumaki’s tally or, better yet, bring out one of our first forty from captivity. Maybe their time spent in our torture dungeons have finally jostled something useful from their addled minds.”

“Yes, the forty… The forty?”

“Yes, the forty, remember?” Anko rolled her eyes and knocked the side of her skull for emphasis. “The insurgents we caught over a month ago, sitting pretty in their own feces by this point… let’s bring one of their numbers in.”

“Anko,” Ibiki said, his voice emitting in a firm an unwavering command. “Return to your post. See to it that your security teams review any of our surveillance for blind spots.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Anko cocked her head and produced a most agitated frown but Ibiki kept his resolve, even as the challenge in her purple eyes screamed of future repercussions. Ibiki delighted in discovering what those repercussions might be. “You want me to leave just when things are about to get good?”

“I simply demand that you return to your assignment. Let me handle the dirtier work, as it is part of my job requirement.”

“But—”

“I don’t believe it has occurred to anyone, Kakashi-sama included, that the recent attacks might have served doubly as a diversion, distracting us from a possible rescue attempt of the insurgent numbers we have already imprisoned. I need your department to see to it that no remnants have infiltrated the village populations of Tanzaku, Haru, Kimura, Nishimura, or Sogen with the eventual objective of entering Konoha and taking back their numbers.”

Anko continued to give him the evil eye until eventually his words broke down her innate need for insolence and insubordination. Ibiki wanted nothing more than to destroy their prisoner, if it meant obtaining all the information they needed, before throwing Anko down against the dungeon floor and having his way with her beside Subject #3M256’s corpse if he thought it would please the woman and, making no mistake, he could see in her eyes that she would gladly have exactly that take place.

“Fine,” she grumbled, after a long and heated silence, her hands gripping his shoulders with wanton need. “It’s just you know how much I like to watch you do your job. It gets me all…ready, inside.”

Ibiki kept his poise, despite what all his impulses urged him to do, removing Anko’s hold from his body and taking her hands into his own. “It pleases me to hear that. I expect you to remain ready, by shift’s end, or the repercussions will be dire.”

“Kami, I hope so,” Anko winked again, backing away. The two of them gazed at each other, lustfully, before Anko reluctantly disappeared within her own haze of purple smoke.

  
The forty insurgents were dead.

Ibiki had executed them himself, by order of the Hokage, with no fanfare or ceremony lest their village be seen to relish the occasion or, worse, provoke enemy retaliation. No one except a select few from the Torture and Interrogation Forces and the Rokudaime himself knew the execution had taken place and that excluded Mitarashi Anko.

“Hello again,” Ibiki said brightly, reentering the interrogation room and closing the chamber door behind him with a soft thud. Subject 3M256 made no indication of having heard him, or any movement acknowledging his presence at all, but Ibiki had long since grown indifferent to the disrespect of prisoners. One could offer him a salute and a bow and it would make little difference to the onslaught of pain they’d inevitably endure. “Are you prepared for another round?”

“Fuck you,” spat Subject #3M256, emphasizing the sentiment with a dollop of spit and blood that pooled from his busted and bleeding lower lips.

“I’ll pass, thank you,” Ibiki replied, keeping to pleasantries. His overcoat billowed in the nonexistent wind as he strolled the perimeter of the room, pulling the gloves around his hands up in certain fashion, before deciding on a rather rusted handheld scythe, one with finger holds to wear up to the knuckles and two blades that jutted out in opposite, forty-five degree angles, as his device of choice. Unlike a few of the other instruments of pain decorating the wall, the scythe did not yet drip with Subject #3M256’s blood but, if it proved necessary, Ibiki would be only too eager to amend that fact.

Ibiki knelt down low before Subject #3M256 and grabbed his chin with his device-less grip so that there could be no misunderstanding of words or intent.

“I mean to make this as slow and as painful as I can,” he said, lifting a blade a hair’s length away from Subject #3M256’s jugular, “or I can spare your life and you can live on to see another day’s end should you give me the information I require.”

Subject #3M256 smiled, sickly and sinisterly so, the ripped edges of his lips creasing into jolly red lines of blood.

“What’s a few more tidbits here and there? You’ve already given up so much…” Ibiki tilted a blade to a flattened side and let it dance across the underside of Subject #3M256’s jaw line. “Now, tell me, how many of you are there?”

“Why not figure it out yourself?”

“That would be incredibly time consuming which is why I’ve been so courteous as to entertain your presence today. I suggest you keep in mind your current position before you speak anything further than honest to good information.”

“Who’s to say,” Subject #3M256 stopped to hack up blots of blood, his violent coughing a sigh-inducing nuisance Ibiki just so happened to dodge with expert reflexes, “…who’s to say what I’ve given up is the truth?”

Ibiki allowed it to happen quick and without lingering, to get his point across, but he didn’t intend to make a habit of it moving forward. The swiftest nudge of his boot sent Subject #3M256’s solid iron chair hinging on the back legs, effectively forcing the prisoner into a upward position, at which point Ibiki removed his foot and, with a low spin, proceeded to swipe one blade end of the scythe against Subject #3M256’s exposed abdomen. Subject #3M256’s seat fell back forward with a deafening thud and, with it, its momentum forced the beginning of an intestinal track gushing from the severed opening of the prisoner’s gut.

Subject #3M256’s agonizing scream might have curdled Ibiki’s blood had many years on the job not already stilled it well beyond and below freezing point.

“This can all go away,” Ibiki cooed, a dark and foreboding utterance, stroking Subject #3M256’s broken jaw with a more tender touch. “I can have a medic-nin appear in a matter of seconds to mend your wounds and heal the internal bleeding.”

“No more, please,” Subject #3M256 pleaded, revealing his threshold to the dimmed and claustrophobic interrogation chamber, not to Ibiki but to alleviate a desperation that contorted his face into a stretched frown that bubbled over with newer and darker blood. “Stop!”

“I’m not doing anything you didn’t want me to do,” Ibiki insisted, leaning forward once more, “I am sincerely offering you a way out of your current predicament. What was the intent of you and your fellow comrades? Mm? Was this a retrieval mission, to rescue the forty insurgents we cleaned up some time ago?” Ibiki paused, to gauge Subject #3M256’s face, to determine the truth within the pain. The slight stutter of his eyes, one too swollen to barely lift its eyelid, gave him the response he expected. “They’re safe, I can assure you,” he lied. “They seemed incapable of giving up any useful information, not for lack of trying, the intrinsic barrier of a powerful jutsu making them loyal to your cause by default. That’s where you and your fellows differ, no?”

Ibiki released Subject #3M256’s jaw with a dismissive toss and stood from a kneeling position to retreat into a darkened corner. Subject #3M256 flinched as he reemerged from the darkness with a wooden stool to perch himself upon like a bird of prey.

“You can save them,” he began again, lying still. “They’re useless to us, wasting valuable prison space as we work to deconstruct the mind manipulation they’re under, but you’ve proven yourself unfettered by such restraints.” Ibiki lowered himself, holding his chin in one hand while holding his scythe device against his waist, and stared frankly, beneath a hardened brow, at the gaping, soulless face that attempted to withdraw its emotions in an effort to minimize its agony. “If you and your accompanying associates swear to divulge all the information we require I can personally guarantee that Konoha will set them free.”

Subject #3M256’s head started to rise, steadily, as jolts of adrenaline working to offset the trauma of his injuries caused him to tremble.

“What say you?” Ibiki goaded, a smile of encouragement that mirrored more closely the face of death itself transforming words of reassurance to those of boding evil.

“Those forty…mean nothing to me,” Subject #3M256 hissed, the strength of his abhorrence jerking away from the chakra-infused shackles restricting him to the chair’s vicinity. “They’re filthy, useless, pieces of shit that did not join because they were devoted, loyal, because they believed in the True Path…”

“Fear could have equally been a fine motivator,” Ibiki offered, dryly, “perhaps, even more so…”

“I don’t care what you do with those…people! No true follower will give a damn what you do…!” Subject #3M256 finished, having exhausted the entirety of his ire. His head fell forward once more, the strain on his neck causing it to sway like a dying pendulum swing.

“Fine,” Ibiki frowned. “I lied. They’re dead. By order of the Rokudaime, I killed them myself. If you and your loyal cohorts of the so-called True Path don’t give us what we want, you will all meet a similar fate in no less swift a fashion.”

Subject #3M256’s trembling became an all out shake as a shudder began at his shoulders and proceeded down the length of his deformed body in rapid progression. Ibiki sulked in disgust at the thought that his subject could be crying, or worse, seizing or going into shock, in either case, becoming of no use to the commanding officer for the foreseeable present.

“…the treaty…”

“Pardon?” Ibiki barked, gripping his knees tightly and digging the heels of his boots into the footrest bar of his stool. He absolutely despised crying, saw it as the undignified response of a child, and to imagine he heard a raspy sob emit from Subject #3M256 just then made him want to put the prisoner out of his misery right then and there. “Speak up.”

Subject #3M256 lifted his head with a peculiar expression on his face that proved juxtaposed to the weeping wounds of his flesh, the exposed and broken bones of his body, and the clammy sunken husk of his skin. A smile had formed some time between his shuddering movement and the lift of his head, stretched across Subject #3M256’s face like that of a gleeful madman’s or, at the very least, the jubilation of one driven mad with suffering.

“Have you gone mad already?” Ibiki mused under his breath, scoffed, and shook his head in wide-eyed disbelief. “We have only just begun.”

“T-the treaty… The Tide Treaty,” Subject #3M256 wheezed out of two expertly punctured lungs. “Have you heard of it, Commander?”

“…What about the Tide Treaty?”

“What about it…” Subject #3M256 snickered, a sickly thing from a sickly creature, his whole body rippling by the strain of it. It was a grotesque sight, one of derangement and evident undoing, and yet Ibiki found he derived no enjoyment from the display as Subject #3M256’s words polluted the air with grating suspense. “The people of the Tide, you fool…the world has decreed them fearless, survivors of great horrors that make ‘em far too precious to come to anymore harm, but, thanks to you and your Hokage, there are now forty less of them us true believers will have to suffer!”

“…No.”

“Yes!” Subject #3M256 laughed, until the oozing of his injuries became an outpour of blood, until doing so caused him to choke on his own internal bleeding, until he became overjoyed with mocking Ibiki as the commanding officer quickly came to terms with the reality of his words, a truth that could well have been a lie, until he realized that there was nothing more honest than the laughter of a dying man. “What will the Hidden Leaf do now that it has violated the Tide Treaty in the most heinous of way?”

“Indeed.” Ibiki struck the space between them with an open grasp, rising to his feet long after the double-bladed scythe had fallen from his grip, immediately ceasing Subject #3M256’s laughter. A gurgling sound followed, as Ibiki’s one-handed hold tightened around Subject #3M256’s throat, one that ebbed and grew to the violent jerks of his body, trying desperately to free itself from the confines restraining it and struggling to endure a lack of oxygen. Subject #3M256 sputtered fluid at the mouth as the rolling of his eyes bulged with a survival instinct Ibiki respected enough to watch fight against an unknowable void. The stark silence of the interrogation chamber played audience to the restless tapping of Subject #3M256’s bare feet as they slapped restlessly against stone, the rustling of his torso as it flailed for relief, until the indiscernible crinkle of a crushed windpipe stilled all movement and silenced all sound.

Ibiki stroked back the short clumps of brown hair on top of Subject #3M256’s head before releasing his now limp and lifeless body to the force of gravity. It fell against the backing of the chair with its disjointed shoulders slumping forward and its head rolling back.

 

* * *

 

 

Ibiki shoved the double doors of the Hokage’s office open with enough force to break holes slightly larger than its door handles in the surrounding walls.

“Kakashi, we have a pro—” Ibiki froze at the sight of an absentee Rokudaime. In his place were two shinobi he knew to be chunin in rank with no clearance whatsoever for any information he currently had to relay. “What the hell are you two doing?”

“…Shit all.”

“Kotetsu!” Kotetsu, palming down the open pages of an Icha Icha novel that surely belonged to the missing leader himself, gradually uncrossed his legs and lowered them from the Hokage’s desk as his companion, Izumo, embarked in a rather rigged salute. “Apology, Morino-san, but the Hokage-sama has assigned us to retrieving any ground reports coming this way.”

“Never mind that—where is Kakashi?” Ibiki demanded, having no time at all for the ludicrous antics of two gatemen. Their eyes widened, out of surprise and uncertainty, no doubt taking notice of the blood on his gloves.

 

* * *

 

 

“Only Kimura, the Tanzaku Quarters, Haru, Nishimura, and Sogen then?”

“Maa…Is that not enough?”

“It’s more than enough, my Eternal Rival. It’s obscene,” Gai said, ducking his head beneath the fluttering flap of a nearby restaurant. “From a tactical standpoint, though, it can be determined that their targeting of the surrounding villages rather than the fringes of the Fire most certainly means that Konohagakure is their ultimate target.”

“We are a beacon of leadership, after all,” Kakashi sighed, ignoring the many stares he still received for the sheer burden of being the Rokudaime. A part of him felt simultaneously grateful that not everyone felt compelled to fall to their knees, in tears, and tug at the hems of his robes in gratitude for having been rescued from the attacks by Konoha forces, or for the safety of their family, or for his protection, for the weather, or any of the dozens of other reasons civilians felt the need to bother him.

“You are the leadership, Kakashi,” Gai said, a knowing gleam in his eyes, as he too witnessed the onslaught of civilians who had stopped them in their walk to pay some sort of tribute to the Hokage. “It causes me great regret to know I could not be made available to fight by your side, during the attacks, especially given the gravity.”

“Don’t start,” Kakashi said, sidestepping a neighborhood cat. “The mission completed by you and your team was a necessary precaution for the events to come. I take it there were no issues?”

“The travel route from here to Kirigakure is cleared. Advisor to the Mizukage anticipates the attendance of all other lands as well as a few sovereign territories.”

“Oh joy,” Kakashi replied, “then I’ll know who to avoid.”

The two continued to discuss the purposes of Team Gai’s mission, the restless movement of the marketplace a sight and sound brimming with disorder and noise of all kinds and all levels that permeated from every direction, the addition of displaced villagers from the surrounding villages only heightening Konoha’s lively shop and restaurant setting.

“What a spectacle of spirit it will be, the coming together of so many lands!” Gai exclaimed, even the unruly vibrancy of his voice drowning under the noise pollution of the marketplace. “Are you sure I can’t tag along, please, Kakashi!”

“No, no, no,” Kakashi said, shaking his head. “I will need you here, at Naruto’s side,” he said, the truth of it; although, having traveled with Gai in the past, his legitimate reason for wanting Gai just so happened to align with the desire to never have to suffer the man’s operatic snoring for as long as he could help it. “He’ll need an experienced shinobi to assist him, should things go south, in my absence.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Fantastic!” Gai breathed, his grin expanding twofold, expressing elation but managing to keep his flair for the dramatic down to a minimum within this crowded and public place. It annoyed Kakashi to no end to know Gai was capable of such tame behavior. “It brings me tremendous joy to hear he’s acting as steward while you’re away.”

“Is that so?”

“Apart from Lee-kun, I can think of no other of our youth more deserving than Naruto.” Gai stopped, in the middle of a packed pathway, forcing Kakashi to do the same. “I will do my utmost to see that he succeeds.”

“I’m grateful to hear that,” Kakashi said, and he truly was, though he knew he’d be able to count on Gai. “Also, by experienced I meant old.”

“I take it as a compliment, old friend, considering you and I are the same age!”

“Egh…” The two walked on, heading west, nearing the ends of the marketplace and heading toward the governmental side of the village proper. Kakashi enjoyed his walk with Gai, though he’d never admit it, the ease of their friendship causing them to fall in step when necessary and walk their own path should they so desire. The only other person he shared such camaraderie with was Tenzo, Yamato as he preferred, but Kakashi hadn’t seen the other man since the day of the attack, the day he’d sent Team 7 out on their diplomatic assignment.

“I imagine this is what you were discussing with Hinata?”

“There will be a formal changeover where she’ll find out when everyone else does,” Kakashi droned, shrugging. “I simply wanted to determine for myself how committed she is to Naruto, given their relationship.”

“Ah, yes,” Gai hummed, closing his eyes to the sun above them as it weaved in and out from behind quickly moving clouds. His hands clutched at his chest, above his heart, and there was the Maito Gai Kakashi knew and loathed. “The eternally youthful and their budding love is a bond that can never be broken!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a line from one of Jiraiya’s books…”

“How’s Iruka-sensei, Kakashi?”

How was Iruka-sensei, Gai had to ask, and why ask at all? What a strange thing to ask, Kakashi thought, and sudden too, like there wasn’t a million other things and people they could talk about other than the Academy sensei he honestly hadn’t not thought about a single moment out of the day. Iruka would have appreciated a walk like this, through the midday rush of a busy marketplace, his more pleasant demeanor a fitting buffer between Kakashi and the bleeding heart villagers. Iruka would smile, where Kakashi’s mask made the act a moot point, and the common people would delight in it like the presence of the sun after a storm. Iruka could talk to people, too, not at them but with them, his familiarity and ease with those unaffiliated with the ranks of shinobi uncommon among their kind, as shinobi tended to stick to their own.

“Kakashi?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself,” Kakashi replied, stopping off to one side of the path so not to obstruct the walkway, and Gai followed suit, dodging a rather cranky old man who jabbed the green beast with the pointed end of his walking cane.

“Ask him myself?”

With the jut of his chin, Kakashi directed Gai’s attention to the two figures rising and falling above the training fields nearest the Memorial Stone. Kakashi could tell one of them was Iruka, even from afar, though to catch the chunin training in any capacity appeared to him a surreal affair.

“Oh, I see!” Gai said, holding a hand palm down and parallel to his thick eyebrows. “Is that Konohamaru?”

“So it would seem,” Kakashi grumbled, his fondest memories of the youngest Sarutobi clan member and Naruto’s little mini-me being those where the two didn’t conspire to commit acts that were irreversibly stupid. “Looks like the kid’s on his way to mastering his late uncle’s blade technique.”

“What an exciting time to be alive, my Eternal Rival!”

Konohamaru’s use of the trench knives did not go unnoticed by Kakashi, not only because the use of the chakra infused blades was a sight so iconic to one Sarutobi Asuma, a man Kakashi had the honor to have once called a comrade and good friend, but also for how Konohamaru’s closed-ranged combat technique saw near misses to Iruka’s defensive maneuvering to such an extent that a few centimeters in the wrong direction here and there and his former Academy sensei would no doubt need a few good stitches here and there.

“I wouldn’t dismiss Iruka-sensei just yet, Kakashi… It looks like the boy needs a refresher course in strategic maneuvering.” Gai was right, after all. Where Konohamaru’s fighting approach was tight and unrelenting it left little room for learning the opponent’s movements and planning ahead. Iruka took advantage of that with every kick or swipe of the blade, exposing Konohamaru’s weak spots and moving steadily into more secure vantage points. Then, without hesitance, Iruka retaliated with a shuriken throw dive that didn’t harm the younger chunin but did knock him down to the ground. “I think Iruka-sensei just gave it to him,” Gai chuckled.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Kakashi huffed, an exhale of a smile going unseen behind his mask.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!”

A commotion broke out behind the two jonin, earning the flustered yelps and barks of a few passerbies, the footsteps of someone who couldn’t have weighed more than one of Kakashi’s midsized ninken rapidly approaching and followed close behind by the tremendous pounding of a larger than life shopkeeper.

“THAT KID STOLE MY PERSIMMONS!”

Kakashi sighed.

“Now, now, everyone… Please, step to one side as my associate and I handle the situation,” Gai said, directing the villagers out of the inevitable collision of the thief and the shopkeeper. Kakashi simply waited, watching from afar as Iruka and Konohamaru continued to spar in friendly jest, until the rapid heartbeat of a young boy approached with relentless determination. “Safety is our main priority, beautiful citizens of the Fire!”

Kakashi grabbed the perpetrator by the collar of his raggedy top with enough recoil to send the young boy flying back with little resistance. A bag of ripe persimmons flew out of his hands and fell to the gravel-sand ground with a sound ominously reminiscent of the sound fruit would make if they were to burst against a hardened ground.

“Aw, man!” the kid growled, kicking at the dirt. “You made me drop them!”

“How on Earth did I know it’d be you?”

“Where is he? Let me at him!” The inevitable appearance of the shopkeeper didn’t surprise Kakashi, either, as the prim and proper looking gentlemen, sporting a trim haircut, a moustache, a red apron, and a hefty midsection, brandished a mallet in the boy’s direction. “You!” he shouted. “I’m tired of you stealing from my shop! You want fruit; you pay like everyone else or lose your hands!”

“Hold on there, sir,” Gai said, holding a hand before the man’s heaving chest. “I’m sure we can resolve this without the use of violence.”

“You’re Gai Maito, the Green Beast of Konoha,” the shopkeeper said in awe, his eyes lighting up with disbelief, his violent intentions momentarily forgotten. Then realization fully struck him, Kakashi saw as clear as day, as to who exactly had caught his thief. “Hokage-sama!”

The shopkeeper dropped to one knee, his mallet poised against the ground like that of a weapon as he covered the handle with his hands and bowed his head.

“Please, get up,” Kakashi derided, doing his painfully best to not sound too hateful and unappreciative. He swiped a hand in the shopkeeper’s direction and asked, “What’s your name?”

The shopkeeper quickly hobbled to his feet and replied, “Taichi. Inoue Taichi.”

“Well, Inoue Taichi…” Kakashi looked down at the child still trying to pull away from his grasp with little success. “This kid’s a brat, as I’m sure you’re aware, but if we bludgeoned every brat for being an insufferable waste of space none of them would ever grow up to be shinobi. Mm?”

Inoue Taichi, the shopkeeper, produced an uneasy smile. “Yes, Hokage-sama, I-I mean no,” he quickly frowned. “Not that I think shinobi are insufferable brats, b-but this one…!”

“Easy there,” Gai said, holding a firm hand against Taichi-san’s rising mallet. “The Hokage’s just adding a bit of brilliant levity to the situation.”

“Yes,” Taichi-san looked to Gai, nodding adamantly, “… Yes, of course.”

“How much does he owe you?”

“Hokage-sama?”

“For the persimmons; how much does the kid owe you?” Kakashi asked, pulling money from a robe pocket. Kakashi regularly carried money around, more so than he ever did before becoming Hokage, more often now to see how many establishments would refuse to take his money simply because he was the Hokage.

“Hokage-sama, I couldn’t take your money,” Taichi-san said, his face straining. “Please, forgive my outburst, but it is the child who should pay for his crimes.”

“Usually, I’d agree…” The kid in his grip tried to shove into him before Kakashi successfully yanked him away. “…except I can’t have you harming this kid. He’s an investment, of sorts, and look at him. Do you think he’s eaten a decent meal let alone can pay for the damage he’s caused? I will pay.”

“Ah,” Taichi-san gulped, his gaze turning toward his thief and growing heated, before lowering the mallet in his hand for good. “Yes, Hokage-sama.”

“How much for the persimmons and any other goods he’s stolen in the past?” The thief, Taichi-san, and a Gai, whose eyes watered with prideful tears, all looked to Kakashi in surprise, alongside the dozen or so villagers who had stopped to watch the exchange between the Rokudaime and a common shopkeeper. “Mm? How much?”

“H-Hokage-sama, I couldn’t say for certain…”

“Give me a rough estimate.”

“50,000 ryo.”

A collective gasp emanated from the amassed crowd as all eyes turned to Kakashi wondering what the Rokudaime, the Hokage of Konohagakure, would do next.

Kakashi pulled all the bills and some spare coin from within his pocket and, dragging the thief alongside him, approached Taichi-san with an outstretched hand.

“Here’s about 100,000 ryo,” he said, placing the money in the open palms of Taichi-san’s fidgeting hands. “Consider it accrued interest. As well enough, I can’t guarantee this heathen won’t try something like this again.”

“Th-thank you, Hokage-sama!”

The crowd went into a frenzied uproar of whoops and hollers, the response to Kakashi’s actions that of admiration and praise, a motion of noises the jonin had grown accustom to hearing come together for the people around him more than for himself, and he wondered why he should expect anything else when part of being a shinobi meant settling village disputes no matter how small?

“My hero!” Gai said, as playful as ever, sharing the musk of his training as he wrapped a chiseled arm around Kakashi’s shoulders. Taichi-san gave a low bow and offered more shaken gratitude before excusing himself to return to his unattended shop. As the hustle and bustle of the marketplace powered on, so did the crowd, eventually dispersing into the few pedestrians and storefront patrons from before the scene had erupted. “My Eternal Rival is always here to save the day!”

“Except when he isn’t,” Kakashi said, more to himself than the low volume of his voice could have carried in their current surroundings.

“Can you let me go now?”

“Can you not be a menace to society?”

Take managed to wrestle himself free from Kakashi’s grasp, at long last, because Kakashi allowed him to break free. The boy immediately turned on him with a hatred the jonin had long since grown accustom to receiving. It no longer bothered him, the faintest prickling of awareness that stemmed from the nape of his neck and moved outwards, the notion that he might have earned such unadulterated loathing for a reason he couldn’t quite recall. It now bored him, as the reality that had once intrigued him now risked becoming a constant obstacle to all the progress they served to make during their training sessions.

“I was doing just fine until I ran into you!” Take hissed, point an accusing finger at Kakashi.

“I never said you weren’t,” Kakashi responded, his one visible eye narrowing, “but if this is what you do then I can’t imagine you are.”

“What?”

“Ah, my Eternal Rival’s little friend,” Gai said, acknowledging Take with earnest recognition. “We meet again!”

“Hello, old man.”

“OLD MAN?” Gai’s face dropped like a stone, his jovial disposition becoming the sulking, sagging weight upon which Kakashi’s shoulder refused to uphold. Kakashi happily shrugged him off as the other man fell to his knees, his entire world seemingly shattered by the words of a nine-year-old boy.

“Ne…How come when he says it, it actually affects you?”

“Am I old, Kakashi?” Gai asked, his eyes going white with disbelief and his face growing red with agony.

“Yes.”

“Gahhhh!” With an inconsolable wail, Gai fled into the direction of the training fields below Iruka and Konohamaru, two rivers of tears airborne in his wake of leaving Kakashi behind with a child who, being fair to Take, had no soul.

“Maa…Look what you did.”

“What I did?” Take countered. “You did this!”

“I think you hurt his feelings,” Kakashi said, not at all committed to the belief, his judgmental staring too dulled and lazy to make for a moving argument. “Go apologize.”

“Why don’t you go apologize?” Take snapped, countering again.

“Go apologize…” Kakashi paused, staring not that far up from where Gai continued to make a beeline toward Iruka and Konohamaru. “…or wait and see what Iruka-sensei will have to say.”

“Iruka-sensei’s not here,” Take shot back and crossed his arms. “What’s Old Bushy-brow Man gonna do, find Iruka-sensei and tell on me?”

“He won’t have to,” Kakashi pocketed his hands, “given that it’s Iruka-sensei up there, with a fellow shinobi, training by the Memorial Stone.”

Take’s face turned as grey as Gai’s had turned red.

“You’re lying.”

“See for your self,” Kakashi shrugged, smiling with his eye. “It’s only a matter of time until Iruka, being the caring pushover he is, comes back down to ask Gai who it was who hurt his poor feelings.”

Take looked to the two figures sparring at a distance. It was quite common to see shinobi training, like a backdrop to the village, almost always inhabiting the aptly named training fields. One grew accustom to the occurrence, so much so that one could hardly be asked to pay any mind to when members of a shinobi village decided to take to the skies with their skills and a predisposition for fighting in mind.

Kakashi knew that, even at the edge of the marketplace, determining Iruka and Konohamaru’s identities had come down to a familiarity of their abilities and chakras, details that shinobi of jonin caliber such as himself and Gai could pick up on with ease. Kakashi watched and waited to see if Take might accomplish this chunin-level feat and, if he failed, the jonin figured they could always add long-distance detection to their training sessions.

Like any good sensei, Kakashi always thought on his toes.

“Damn it,” Take whispered, his squinting eyes turning into two round balls of fear. “It is Iruka-sensei!”

“Very good,” Kakashi said, nodding. “Now go pester him, Bamboo Boy.”

Take started off into a sprint so desperate that Kakashi honestly believed the boy might actually catch up to Gai at some point. He delighted in getting to watch the two very different personalities collide and began to imagine them vying for Iruka’s attention like two schoolchildren—only one of them actually being a school-aged child while the other just acted like one—pleading their cases to their teacher. Kakashi enjoyed the image of Iruka’s face, flustered by the interruption, perhaps caught off-guard enough to earn a well-aimed assault by Konohamaru for the sheer hassle of caring too much.

The mere thought of it all shaped up to make Kakashi’s day until he felt the familiar chakra of another appear in a poof of grey smoke beside him.

“Ibiki,” he said, watching as everything he had imagined started to unfold.

“Kakashi,” Ibiki said, the honorific of his title noticeably gone from his approach. Kakashi turned to afford Ibiki the attention he clearly demanded. “We have a problem.”

“I can see that,” Kakashi agreed, taking note of the consternation on Ibiki’s face, the slight glean of perspiration seeping into the fabric of his bandana hitai-ate, and the dry blood now flaking on the sleeves of his overcoat. “I do have one question, Ibiki-san.”

“Yes?” Ibiki snarled, indulgently, as all his restraint, the insistence of his hardened stare, exhausted itself in the allowance of that word.

Kakashi returned to eyeing the training fields by the Memorial Stone.

“…Is Old Bushy-brow Man not the most perfect nickname for Gai?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So one chapter a year, yes? No? That's a resounding no? Okay, I'm inclined to agree... Pray that I'll become a better person who knows how to better manage their time.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With conflict on the rise, a Hokage summit looming, Iruka's tasked with mining through the quagmire that is shinobi politics and welcoming home a few familiar faces, all the while questioning the shaky ground that is his and Kakashi's relationship.

It both fascinated him and horrified him, what was happening to Konohagakure.

During his days at the Academy, after finally buckling down and working hard, Iruka found it useful to study the behaviors that bred from the kind of unrest now gripping the village.

The Land of Fire was on high alert. All Konoha units stationed on the outskirts had been ordered to move inward and, with them, the territories they secured and protected. The mass migration led to disputes between hosting villages and the displaced villagers who, by no choice of their own, had been forced into other territories. These disputes turned to hostility, as customs and laws changed over borders, creating even more instability and feelings of disenfranchisement.

Iruka learned this to be the case while overseeing the comings and goings of the Hokage’s office. He had received, per the Hokage’s order, several messenger birds with missives from incensed unit captains heatedly requesting the deployment of reinforcements for the sole purpose of keeping the peace between neighboring villages.

The same could be said for Konoha, the presence of villagers from Nishimura and Sogen causing tensions to rise as overcrowding became more evident. The village planners had already erected new structures to compensate for the lack of space. The need for additional food and supplies compelled the public sector to increase levies on commercial goods. Though Iruka and others saw the need for the adjustments, many other villagers did not and had grown increasingly vocal against the relocated village population.

Iruka heaved a heavy sigh as he sat in the Hokage’s chair, hunched over the Hokage’s desk, reviewing inbox after inbox of missives from all corners of the land and from every department in Konoha…except from the Torture and Interrogation Force.

The department under the command of Morino Ibiki had grown ever more evasive and perhaps for good reason, given the nature of their work. Iruka blinked away the thought, not wanting to imagine the kind of hateful rhetoric the animosity currently pervading the village proper would foster if the recent haul of enemy imprisonment were paraded out in public. A cry to ban anyone and anything Amegakure from entering the Land of Fire had already arisen within the Hidden Leaf.

The fact that Konoha’s leader appeared more absent as of late hadn’t helped matters either. Apart from a few public announcements regarding current affairs, the Rokuaime continued to work from behind the scenes, alongside Ibiki-san and the Intelligence Division.

Iruka truly did understand the need for secrecy. The less the village saw of its leadership scrambling to rebuild and regroup the better they’d make sense of their daily lives. Except the Hokage had not yet shown himself to be a reassuring leader, not to Iruka at least, one willing to put aside the finer points of the situation to make time for the grievances of the villagers.

Kakashi had refused to clarify where things stood between him and Iruka.

The chunin sensei felt ridiculous, childish, holding onto such a selfish thought when the land he loved and the village he took pride in faced certain peril. Iruka hadn’t had an actual conversation with the other man since the morning Anko and Aoba-san sent Gorilla and Gazelle to escort them to the hospital not entirely of Kakashi’s own free will.

Iruka had returned home that night, exhausted from sparring with Konohamaru, to a note on the kitchen counter in Kakashi’s unique blend of chicken scratch and couldn’t-be-bothered style of writing, explaining how he had official business to attend to and wouldn’t be back for some time. As a sign-off, the jonin drew the same henohenomoheji face design that adorned the back of the ninken’s vests.

Iruka thought nothing of it, initially, smiling fondly as he reread the words of a man whose penmanship would have otherwise enraged him in a more professional setting. Then he went to sleep. The ninken returned, in the dead of night, and Iruka had let them in, with his eyes barely open, before collapsing back into bed with a yawn and a vague awareness of newly warm and furry surroundings.

Then the following morning arrived and, with it, another note that simply read:

 _Morning_.

Another henohenomoheji sign-off. Iruka received another note similar to the one left the night before the following night and the morning after and, unbeknownst to him then, would continue to receive notes every morning and every night thereafter that varied in length and quality but ultimately sent the same message.

Iruka wouldn’t see Kakashi unless at the administrative building, in passing, before being assigned work the jonin reasoned didn’t require a Hokage’s presence. The task of archiving records, evaluating reports, and receiving posts in the Hokage’s office were as menial and hands-off as work got for the Rokudaime.

Kakashi offered him only the most expressionless one-eyed smiles, every meeting, and showed no other indication that he and Iruka even knew each other beyond the professional veneer of office walls and department grounds. It first unnerved Iruka, to see Kakashi succeed so well at distancing himself, and though he tried to reason with himself that this was Kakashi’s way of separating their personal and professional lives, the more he tried to explain Kakashi’s actions to himself the more Iruka’s angst over the matter turned into a quiet storm of rage.

A scroll of parchment didn’t stand a chance in the subconscious strangle of Iruka’s grip.

“Iruka-sensei,” Pakkun grumbled, from somewhere beyond the Hokage’s desk. “You’re doin’ it, again.”

“Oh,” Iruka said, sitting back, his death-grip faltering. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” the pug asked, circling around the desk. He jumped up on its surface to sniff at the scroll in Iruka’s hand. “I don’t think the missive cares all that much.”

“Right.”

“Unless the missive says “Don’t squeeze me! I’m just the messenger!”

“Uh-ah…” Iruka smiled, despite himself, Pakkun’s terrible joke endearing in a way that brought him relief in the form of a pity laugh. “That was pretty bad and you know it.”

“I can do this all day. My comedic palette is masterful and perfect in every way.” Iruka questioned the claim with a skeptical blink. “If it stops you from thinking about that idiot, even for a second, then I’m hilarious.”

The chunin smiled, truly grateful, and gave the pug an appreciative scratch behind his ears.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?” he asked, refraining from referring to the other man in any of the profane ways Pakkun had deemed appropriate.

“Sorry, Iruka-sensei,” Pakkun said, tapping a paw against his loosened grip. “Even if I did know, I wouldn’t be at liberty to say. None of us are,” he added, in reference to the other ninken currently running surveillance rounds with the Inuzuka clan’s ninken and all other nin animals with tracking capabilities. “All I can say is what you already know.”

“It’s above my pay grade, I know,” Iruka said, speaking the words like a mantra. The chunin would have asked a department head, because only they would know, but wherever the Hokage was the department heads were never too far behind these days. None of them stayed in one place for very long.

Iruka kept hard at work, adapting to the changing landscape of general village affairs, staring down the mountain-high stack of paperwork that had befallen him as per Kakashi’s neglect. This included a collection of reports regularly received from the missions room. Iruka had been given the sole duty of reassigning teams returning from far-off places to smaller scope operations inspecting or patrolling the village. Only a few select teams were given missions that sent them beyond the borders of the Land of Fire and those who weren’t often expressed their displeasure by questioning the legitimacy of Iruka’s authority to tell them what to do.

Iruka longed for the days of teaching at the Academy that he’d relinquished by no fault of his own and, by Kakashi’s decree, for his benefit. With Izumo and Kotetsu back at their assigned posts, as security detail to the main gates of the village, Iruka buried his discontent in the additional work. His efforts doubled, as dwelling on the state of his personal affairs had made him quite the industrious worker bee everyone knew him to be, indeed.

Why wouldn’t the Hokage, Konoha’s most tactical shinobi, take advantage of that fact?

“Are you gonna read it or just stare at it for a really long time?”

“Pakkun…” Iruka began, his hands moving to remove the thread of rope holding the scroll in its rolled up state. “Isn’t it odd that…even for Kakashi, I mean, not to see him for almost two weeks straight?”

“Whaddya mean?” Pakkun settled down on the desk, facing Iruka. “I saw him after a summons for the scouting party.”

“Not in a purely professional context, I mean.”

“Oh…oh that,” Pakkun sighed, bowing low. “He has his reasons.”

“He has reasons for avoiding me?” Iruka blurted out, for the first time, the thought that had been simmering in his mind finally bubbling to the surface. Again, he felt immature and insecure, foolish for feeling the way he did when the broader scheme of their world seemed to stand on shaky ground, but he couldn’t help himself.

Pakkun did not appear to think less of him, for the outburst, didn’t react with surprise or dissonance of any kind which relieved Iruka.

“I sound pitiful, don’t I?”

“No more pitiful than the idiot who summons me,” Pakkun griped, chuckling low. “Kakashi’s always been very good at keeping his personal and professional life separate, even if he acts as if he’d be incapable. It’s because you’re important that he keeps you at a distance, Iruka, make no mistake.”

“Well,” Iruka sighed, his weary eyes sinking, “that’s comforting.”

“Good!” Pakkun beamed, oblivious. “You’re one of us now. I told you, remember? Ask Kakashi and he’d tell you the same.” Pakkun tossed a paw into the air, contorting it into the best imitation of a thumbs-up gesture he could muster, and Iruka mustered up a smile to show Pakkun that his input had been well-received, helpful, and reassuring…

Except Iruka had already taken matters into his own hands, to his embarrassment and dismay. The chunin felt the heat rise in his face just thinking about it.

In response to the note Kakashi had left the morning before, Iruka had left his own note asking, _‘Why are you avoiding me?’_

The notes stopped after that.

“Who’s the scroll from this time? If they sound really angry, can I respond with a special message of my own?” Pakkun asked, wagging his tail with cautious eagerness, his face a dull, blank canvas never once giving away how sickeningly excited he was at the prospect. “I’d relish the opportunity to show my aptitude in official office.”

Pakkun was definitely one of Kakashi’s ninken, Iruka confidently concluded to himself.

“I think you just like to exercise your sadism streak,” Iruka said back, opening the scroll. There was no official seal holding it together, aside from its rope, no doubt the result of a tumultuous journey. Iruka had no way of telling where and from whom the scroll had traveled before reading its contents. “It’s from the Sand,” he said and, upon further inspection, added, “a letter from the Kazekage.”

“The Kazekage?” Pakkun repeated, rising to his paws. “You mean that Gaara kid?”

“Yes, Gaara-sama,” Iruka corrected him. As Pakkun trotted across the desk, climbed over his arm, and settled into his lap, Iruka held the scroll out and open so that the both of them could read together. Iruka had long since grown accustom to the sense of overstepping his authority when reading communications sent to the Hokage, since Kakashi’s pervasive absence and possible avoidance of him left him no other option but to pry.

The letter read:

_To the Rokudaime of Konohagakure,_

_I hope this missive receives you well. I’ve heard many unsettling developments since we last spoke. My advisors return from Kirigakure with news regarding the finer points of the Summit. What information they were able to obtain from members of Mei-sama’s administration seems to deal primarily in commerce and security. Kumogakure and Iwagakure have had to manage a barrage of piracy off the coastlines of their respective lands by a growing assembly of escaped criminals who both the Raikage and Tsuchikage suspect are using Mountains’ Graveyard as their gathering place. Mei-sama’s administration expects that, in response to lobbying by the Earth and the Lightning, Mei-sama will most likely call for unity in addressing this issue. I plan to take the position for assisting the Hidden Stone and the Hidden Cloud as the hijacking of goods from the Land of Earth puts a strain on the distribution of those goods in both the Land of Wind and the independent hidden villages between our borders._

_As for Amegakure, the hidden village of mutual concern, the Mizukage Administration made no mention of any attacks by any persons fitting the preliminary analysis nor did they bring up any issue of missing persons. My advisors couldn’t determine whether this stance is an attempt to save face or an honest declaration of ignorance by the Hidden Mist. Nevertheless, since we’re currently working to solve cases of missing persons from neighboring villages northeast of Sunagakure, the matter will not go unmentioned. I will support any position you take on the threat currently terrorizing the Land of Fire. My administration and I will also campaign on your behalf and see to it that Onoki-sama and A-sama are made aware of our support so to further sway their votes toward a unified force._

_I hope all the information I’ve shared matches with what details could be obtained by Team Gai, otherwise, we’ll have an entirely new issue on our hands._

_Until our next meeting,_

_The Godaime of Sunagakure_

_p.s. How is Naruto?_

“…That boy didn’t write this damn letter,” Pakkun huffed, evidently disgruntled by the notion. “Way too classy.”

“Missing persons?” Iruka heard himself say, the words sinking in with slow acceptance. His eyes met with Pakkun’s, expressing a mutual bewilderment, the two of them having heard little to the effect of such news that it sounded wholly surreal. Given Konoha’s current population spike, the idea that people were going missing was difficult for Iruka to contemplate. “Kakashi’s said nothing about people going missing.”

“Judgin’ by your previous admission, Iruka-sensei, would he have told you?”

“Point taken,” Iruka hummed, rerolling the scroll and securing it within its rope once again. Staring wide-eyed at the desk before him, he continued, “We just read a personal correspondence between Kakashi and Gaara-sama, Pakkun.”

“What do you mean, we?” the pug chided, hopping out of Iruka’s lap. Iruka made a face, an utterly put-off and devastated frown in the face of Pakkun’s betrayal, but he couldn’t hold out from grinning for very long. That grin didn’t last very long, as he realized that a letter of this significance would need to be given to the Hokage as soon as possible. Given his…absence of late, getting Kakashi to receive anything by way of Iruka’s hand would be a more difficult task than usual. “I got it, Youngster.”

“Eh?”

“I’ll make sure the idiot gets his letter,” Pakkun said, reading Iruka’s mind. Iruka offered no resistance to the tiny paws grabbing for the scroll, the small jowls latching onto its rope with careful precision, releasing an exhale of relief for the removal of the burden. Pakkun looked to Iruka a beacon of light at the end of a tunnel closed in by the very man who called him ninken. “Iruka-sensei?”

“Thank you,” Iruka finally thought to say and, still, he felt as though he couldn’t convey the full extent of his gratitude with mere words.

Pakkun hopped off the desk, scampering away, and Iruka couldn’t help but think back to the day he and the pug were officially introduced, by Kakashi, in the Hokage’s office no less.

“I’m grateful to have met you, Pakkun.”

“‘Ruka-nghse…?” Pakkun got out, halfway across the room, the scroll muffling his speech. Dropping the scroll, he gazed up at Iruka with a look of marvel, his mouth slightly gaping, and Iruka felt his face flush under the pug’s wide-eyed stare. “Don’t talk like that,” he said, his eyes drooping. “You make it sound like I’m never gonna see you again.”

“I just want you to know how much I appreciate you. That’s all.”

“No need.” Pakkun smiled. “I already know.”

 

_“Where is he? Where is that...sneaky bastard?!”_

Pakkun quickly scooped up the scroll and leapt out of the way, just in time, before the double doors of the room were shoved open with enough force to completely undo the patch job Iruka had recently ordered from a village contractor. For whatever reason he believed too outlandish to even suffer imagining, there had been two doorknob-sized holes in the wall that no one had deemed unseemly enough to repair until he made it a personal life goal.

Now Mitarashi Anko, with her eyes twitching and her mouth stretched menacingly around the protrusion of a skewer stick, had smashed two new doorknob-sized holes into the walls with abandon.

“I’m going after Kabuto, damn it!”

“Kabuto?”

Anko froze when she saw him, clearly expecting to find Kakashi occupying the one place almost no one ever found him...which in all likelihood meant he didn’t want to be found. Though still appearing like a terror, the threat of reckoning in the tight grip of her hands as she shoved against the doors gave way. The swaying of her tan jacket came to a disquieted standstill.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Iruka demanded, rising from the Hokage’s chair. He looked to Pakkun, who attempted to slowly back away from Anko’s vicinity and out of the room, to Anko, to Pakkun, to the tokubetsu jonin again.

“Iruka-sensei!” Anko’s glowering turned into an irrefutable smile. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“You’re lying,” Iruka shot back, snapping his hands against his waist. “I haven't been anywhere else for the last two weeks. You know that.”

“You're right, I'm lying,” she happily divulged, sauntering further into the room. “Of course I knew you’d be here!” she shouted to the heavens, adding softly, “Where else would the boy toy put you but at the home front, where it’s safe, lover boy?”

Anko bent down over the other side of the desk, resting the girth of her breasts against its surface. Iruka looked over her dancing shoulders to the pug still creeping away, hind legs first, with the scroll tight in the grip of his jowls, pleading to him with as much desperation his eyes could express.

“This missive isn’t going to send itself!” the pug declared, through gritted teeth. “Nice seeing you, Anko-san.”

“Likewise, Old Timer,” she replied, extending an arm in a half-hazard wave. Her eyes remained fixed on Iruka, her gaze dreamy with the kind of wonderment Iruka wanted nothing more than to avoid. “Tell the boss what I said, because I mean to do it.”

“We’ll see, Youngster.”

“Pakkun, wait—”

“See you later, Iruka-sensei!”

Pakkun raced passed the entrance, down the hall, and out of sight, the two guards outside appearing briefly to close the doors behind him.

“Uh…ah,” Iruka whimpered, deflated, left now with no other company than the tokubetsu jonin before him.

“It’s just us now, lover boy.”                         

“Stop calling me that,” Iruka said, staring hard, but his hands began grabbing for anything on the desk to distract himself, to feign busywork, anything to advert his attention from the all-knowing stare of the woman before him. “In any case, I’m no safer here than out on the farthest reaches of the land. Konohagakure is as vulnerable as anywhere else,” he declared, settling back down into the Hokage’s chair. “He’s surrounded by skilled shinobi, department heads, and Anbu… The safest place would be at his side, wouldn’t it?”

“Are you okay, Iruka?” Iruka tossed a hefty folder back onto the desk, scoffing, and glanced up just in time to catch Anko’s subtle surprise. “Do you not feel safe?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, hoping to ease the genuine concern threatening to break the mold of Anko’s playfulness, “but it probably isn’t any wonder why he left me behind.”

“Oh, Kami,” Anko said, her eyes following Iruka’s every movement. “Half the Anbu unit that follows Kakashi around is hanging outside these walls, dying of boredom, and you think Kakashi doesn’t care about you?”

“Wait, what?” Iruka’s eyes widened while, in response, Anko took on a dramatically sage pose and offered him a sympathetic stare.

“I specialize in reconnaissance and security. My entire career hinges upon an aptitude in behavioral analysis, psychological observation and evaluation. Besides, your love life is basically my Icha Icha—did you think I wouldn’t read between the lines?”

“I didn’t think, I mean, wh-why would he—”

“I bet you can feel them now, huh?” Anko grinned, dancing with her shoulders, indicative of a clear belief in her own correctness. Iruka could feel them now, the Anbu, their perpetual presence a reality he couldn’t so much as ignore as he often rather liked to forget. “I get it. You think he’s avoiding you. Given the way I’ve seen him treat you in briefings, I can’t blame you, but that ass isn't avoiding you anymore than the rest of us. He’s just doing his job which, in this case, means bossing people around and dodging anyone, aka me, with any legitimate bone to pick.”

“I see.”

“Does that ease your worried widdle mind, _‘Ruka_?” Iruka’s eyes wandered to where an unopened envelope sat on the desk, right under his nose, taunting him with what would surely be another request for reinforcements or a detailed outline of what the Hokage expected of his subordinates. “Iruka?”

Iruka offered Anko a trying smile.

“What’s worrying me more is you thinking of my love life as your own poorly written erotica.”

“Ooh,” Anko cooed, leaning in close. “So there is love…” Iruka’s face flushed a crimson red, the coy smile playing across Anko’s lips and the prying of her eyes a hateful thing to him indeed. “Are you in love, Iruka?”

“What’s this about Kabuto, Anko?”

“Kabuto who?”

 

A knock on the door interrupted them, a polite one, a gentle and considerate approach compared to the many intrusions and ambushes Iruka had entertained for the last two weeks.

“Come in,” Iruka said, picking up the unopened envelope, mentally preparing himself for the barrage of demands to unfold. The chunin wondered if Pakkun had yet managed to catch up to Kakashi, wherever he was, as the double doors reopened to reveal the approach of four familiar faces. Iruka dropped the missive in his hands and pushed away from the Hokage’s desk, surprise and elation overcoming him. “Naruto.”

Iruka stood and stopped just short of rushing across the room to embrace the blonde standing at the front of a group consisting of Sakura, Sai, and Yamato-san.

“Iruka-sensei?” Naruto smiled, his eyes sparkling with their usual mischief, but his bafflement at seeing Iruka and not the Rokudaime of Konoha was clearly evident. “Did we miss a coup or something? Did you finally murder Kakashi? Are you the Nanadaime now, Iruka-sensei?”

“Shut up,” Iruka snapped, smiling as he made his way around the Hokage’s desk. He went to shake Naruto’s hand but the blonde pulled him into an inescapable embrace, wrapping his arms around his former sensei with the same gusto Iruka remembered from when the blonde was a child. “Welcome home,” Iruka said, tightening his hold, reluctant to release his former student from his grip.

“Sakura,” he said, taking her hands in his, the contentment in her bright green eyes a drastic development from the fear and doubt Iruka saw the day the committee called Team 7 in for reassignment. The slightest squeeze of her fingers felt like a relief Iruka now longed for but settled with offering his former student, the most promising kunoichi in the field of medicine, a warm smile in return. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Iruka-sensei.”

“Iruka-sensei.” Iruka turned to Sai, extending his hand, and the younger man took it in a rather slow and precise handshake. “I pictured you more devastated than last we saw each other. Has your workload improved much?”

“You could say that,” Iruka said, uncertain of the younger man’s choice of words, but Sai smiled all the same. Iruka returned the expression with his own, albeit uneasy, smile. Sai had long since found his place among Team 7 and, still, Iruka wasn’t sure what to make of him. He initially assumed it was Naruto’s talent for blowing things out of proportions as Naruto once lamented, with a mouth full of ramen, how Team 7’s newest member was an unfeeling and uncaring fiend determined to destroy his morale. The more Iruka got to know Sai, however, the more he began to understand the younger man’s stunted emotional growth and lack of social unawareness. He spoke openly about his former Anbu status, smiled under the most unusual circumstances, and often said what others would deem too frank or awkward to say out loud.

Like now, Iruka thought, always good-humored about their encounters.

“Thank you, Sai,” Iruka said, smiling still. “I appreciate your candor.”

“You’re welcome.” Sai cocked his head to the side, beaming.

Iruka also went to shake Yamato’s hand, his reflexes betraying him. In a sudden fit of awkwardness, he stopped midway and, in turn, forced Yamato to lower his own outstretched hand in hesitant withdrawal.

“Yamato-san,” Iruka managed, his voice sounding strange to him, as he stood beside himself with the appalling decision to wave in greeting.

“Iruka-sensei,” Yamato said, disarming Iruka's resolve with a charming smile. He pocketed his hands with a swift and smooth motion and stared into Iruka’s eyes, intently. Iruka did his best to ignore the way it quickened his pulse. “How are you?”

“I'm fine,” he said, but the question sent a shudder down his spine. Iruka masked his reaction with light laughter and a much needed inhale as he realized he’d been holding his breath. As the jonin captain’s formidable stare conveyed a deeper meaning behind an otherwise innocent inquiry, Iruka fought against a sudden urge to hug the man. “And yourself?”

“I’m better now,” he said, his eyes alighting with a fire that bore into Iruka, a consumption that would have been obscene and totally apparent had he not then looked to his team, adding, “I think it’s safe to the say the journey back home was strained. We thought Amegakure might renege on our negotiations at any moment by sending agents after us, but their culpability in these attacks is not so black and white after all.”

“Yamato-san’s right, Iruka-sensei,” Naruto chimed in, with a sudden seriousness about his formally relaxed features. “It’s not Amegakure behind this but the bastards using the Hidden Rain as a front.”

“Do you know who?”

“I’M FINE BY THE WAY,” Anko declared, loudly, her voice unavoidably obnoxious and purposely loud. Everyone looked to her, as she lounged against the Hokage’s desk, awaiting a follow-up to her outburst. The tokubetsu jonin grinned maliciously and with intent of unquestionable, and certainly unfathomable, purpose. “Welcome back, Team 7.”

“Anko-san,” Yamato replied, nodding in greeting. Sai, Sakura, and Naruto did the same, nodding and waving, though Naruto looked particularly strained in the act. As Anko hopped away from the desk and approached in a snake-like fashion, the young man winced and raised his hands, stepping back, as though he thought Anko might strike him first.

Iruka wanted to remain annoyed, but the memory of a much younger Naruto recounting to him the horrid moment when Anko, then a chunin proctor, attacked him and then proceeded to lick his bloody wound came to the surface of his thoughts and he smiled. He remembered confronting Anko about the incident, enraged on Naruto’s behalf, butting heads with the woman until he’d gotten both sides of the story.

Iruka and Anko had been good friends ever since.

“Easy, there, kid,” Anko said, winking, as she leaned into Naruto. “You know I don’t bite.”

“No I don’t!” Naruto snapped, sweating at the temple, “And I’m pretty sure you do!” Naruto leaned away but it was no hard feat for Anko to reach over his head and ruffle his already tousled blonde hair. Yamato and Sakura chuckled, and Sai smiled, as Anko left Naruto a sulking heap of crossed arms and hateful grimacing. “Iruka-sensei, what is she doing here?”

“I’m here for the same reason you’re here,” Anko said sweetly, the skewer stick dancing in her mouth. “Looks like neither of us will be reporting to the Hokage anytime soon.”

“Where is Kakashi?” Yamato asked.

“Hell should I know.”

“I was asking Iruka, Anko-san.”

“Whatever.” Anko shrugged. “You think if Iruka knew, I’d still be here?”

“She’s right,” Iruka said, annoyed to admit it. “The recent attacks have caused a state of emergency that requires the Hokage’s presence among the department heads in undisclosed locations.”

“Except for me,” Anko chimed in, staring out of a window. “I’ve been out of the loop for a long time, now, and I don’t freakin’ know why,” they heard her mutter under her breath.

“Iruka-sensei,” Sakura began, her tone as sympathetic as the look on her face, and Iruka gathered she most likely sensed his frustration. “When do you think he’ll be back?”

“The Hokage-sama comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” Anko sneered.

“Bastard.”

“Naruto.”

“What?” Iruka could hardly blame him for the sentiment, but he’d rather Naruto not disrespect the very office he held in such high esteem over the insufferable antics of his former team leader. “You think he’d be here to debrief us, at least. We got important information!”

“It appears as though we aren’t the only ones,” Sai said, pointing to the overflow of letters, envelopes, and folders spread across the Hokage’s desk. “You’re assigned to receive official business, Iruka-sensei?”

“I’m afraid so,” Iruka sighed.

“Then it’s settled,” Yamato declared, and Iruka’s eyes flew open once more. “If Team 7’s return hasn’t concerned Kakashi enough to receive us himself, I think it’s safe to assume we’ve got some time to catch our breath.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m starving,” Naruto said, his stomach growling, angrily, in synchronized protest.

“I agree that ration bars can only go so far,” Sai said, his face expressionless.

“What about my food pills?” Sakura asked, and a collective cloud of angst showered Naruto, Sai, and Yamato, their eyes growing white and round with misery. Having tried some of Sakura’s food pills himself, Iruka couldn’t blame their reaction. For fear of her powerful punching capabilities, none of them said a word to the contrary, but the shared agony rang true. “I improved the recipe didn’t I? Hey! At least they’re edible now!”

“Let’s just say some real food would go a long way right about now,” Yamato said, smiling beneath an uneasy brow.

“Grr,” Sakura growled, crossing her arms and tapping her foot incessantly. “Ingrates.”

“Care to join us, Iruka-sensei?”

“Eh?”

Yamato’s eyes again lingered on Iruka but, this time, with a smile that had expanded to a threatening degree.

“Yosh! That’s a great idea, Yamato-san!” Naruto cackled, slinging an arm around the now petrified chunin sensei. “We have to eat ramen at Ichiraku’s then. My treat!”

“Don’t let Yamato-san’s scary face intimidate you, Iruka-sensei, but I think your accompaniment would make for an even better outing,” Sai offered, and the younger man had never sounded so genuine to Iruka.

“We could catch up,” Sakura said, persistently upbeat and hopeful, making it difficult to decline. “I’m sure you have as much to vent about as I do.”

“What’s that suppose to mean, Sakura-chan?” Naruto sobbed, openly weeping against Iruka’s shoulder.

“I-I would love nothing more, believe me, but I still have work to do.” Iruka glanced around the office with inconsolable reverence. “Who else is available to attend to the Hokage’s duties?”

“Ah-hem!” Iruka and Team 7 turned, at the sound of Anko loudly clearing her throat, finding the woman now lounging in the Hokage’s chair. Her legs dangled over an armchair as she held a handful of paperwork in one hand and glossed through them with the other, to Iruka’s annoyance. “Commander Kato wants more numbers, eh? Figures. The man is never resourceful in a pinch.”

“What are you doing?” Iruka asked, approaching the desk with narrowed eyes.

“What does it look like?” Anko answered, serenely, offering Iruka a less than helpful stare. “I’m filling in.”

“You can’t just fill in.”

“Sure I can,” Anko said, with infuriating simplicity. “Besides, if you go MIA, Kakashi’s more likely to show up wondering what the hell happened. I got this. You go. Eat lunch.”

“Eh?” Iruka looked from Anko, to Team 7, back to Anko, then to Team 7 again.

“Like I said,” Yamato grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s settled.”

Sakura came forward, tugging at the sleeve of his arm, as Naruto remained flanked at his side, wearing his whisker-stretched grin, but then it was Sai placing what he must have assumed was a comforting hand on his shoulder and Yamato approaching to offer what could only be described as a kind jab against his chest and, suddenly, Iruka found himself being dragged out of the Hokage’s office by Team 7’s unyielding affection.

“Until next time, Anko-san?” Yamato called over his shoulder.

“I look forward to it,” Anko called out, and Iruka turned his head back just in time to catch the woman’s earnest wave and a suggestive wink.

Iruka caught her mouth the words, “ _See ya later, Lover Boy_ ,” before the double-doors closed behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s going on, Iruka-sensei?” Sakura asked. “What’s happening to Konoha?”

Iruka told them everything.

Iruka disclosed all that he knew in regards to the village and all current state of affairs, to ever crestfallen faces, the fact that such events began on the verge of their departure not lost on Team 7.

“We should have never left,” Naruto concluded, not long after, the quiet fury simmering within his bold blue stare reflecting anger at himself for not being around to help. The steaming bowl of ramen noodles placed before him experienced moments of uncharacteristic neglect, Iruka noticed, with every new bit of information he had to relay.

“There’s no telling what any of you could have done,” he reasoned, in an attempt to alleviate the revelation, the look of blindsided defeat on their collective faces a frustrating development. “There’s no other team Kakashi would have entrusted with such an important mission, Naruto.” Iruka took hold of the blonde’s shoulder with an earnest squeeze. “This is much bigger than Konoha.”

“So it would seem,” Yamato murmured, lifting his head from behind a bottle of sake. Iruka made sure to keep in eye on just how much of it was left and how often the other man poured generous amounts of nearing two bottles now into his sake cup. “Given what you’ve said, it’s unlikely the lords of the Fire will willingly agree to any collaborative effort with the Hidden Rain.”

“Kami,” Naruto whispered, staring off into the not-so-distant kitchen behind the counter front of Ichiraku’s.

“I don’t understand,” began Sai, his tone as unmoved by emotion as ever but, as they all knew, by no fault of his own. His movements had stalled, as well, his chopsticks frozen above his own bowl of ramen, before eventually extracting its contents with poise. “Konoha’s infrastructure has a failsafe protocol to resolve issues of overpopulation and civil unrest. All shinobi villages do.”

“Not every protocol for every village is exactly the same, though,” Yamato supplied, taking a measured gulp of sake from that small, white, porcelain cup. His face had grown noticeably rosy, his eyes remaining sober but glazed over with serenity, and Iruka recalled a time after the Fourth War when he’d been invited to a shinobi social function where the majority of those attending were all jonin who proved themselves even more self-absorbed, entitled, neurotic and egotistical while drunk... None had gotten as drunk as Yamato. “I don’t even know what that protocol is,” he said, his words not so much slurred as they were pitched low. “You get that kind of info from Root, do you?”

“Yamato-san,” Iruka chided, carefully, eyeing the man with concern and fascination, his ease and lax mannerisms somehow charming to a fault.

“Everyone here knows about his Anbu Root days, Iruka. It’s fine.”

“That may be…” Iruka looked to Sai, wanting confirmation. “Is it?”

“It is, Iruka-sensei,” Sai said, smiling with his eyes in a way that was all too familiar to Iruka. “I don’t hold to the unwritten rule of discretion, regarding my Anbu Root days. The information can be found in records at the library. Anyone with classified clearance, a former Anbu member for example, has access to the protocol scrolls whether they’ve chosen their ignorance or not.”

“What are you trying to say?” Yamato tossed back, inclining to catch a glimpse of Sai at such a severe angle that Iruka feared he might fall off his stool.

“Whatever the protocol is, I guess Kakashi hasn’t made the order yet?” Sakura wondered aloud, stirring her noodles with her chopsticks in a ponderous manner.

“What is the protocol, anyway?” Naruto asked Sai, leaning over the counter to catch the other’s attention. Instinctively, as a precaution from past incidents, Iruka nudged Naruto’s bowl of ramen forward and out of the way of the blonde’s spiky hair and whiskered face. “Well?”

“Mass relocation.”

“Mass relocation?” Iruka balked, his own cup of sake swishing in his hand.

“Forced relocation, actually,” Sai restated, smiling still. “Before and during the terror reign of the Yondaime Mizukage, Kirigakure enforced the same protocol. Any people of the Land of Water unfit for shinobi recruitment or unskilled for clerical positions were forced out onto designated islands of the country. Those who fought back or refused to leave were branded as traitors and hunted down by specialized units. The fear of unjust punishment and the decline in prosperity ensured flight en masse of the shinobi village proper and, by then, a peninsula tenured by Konoha had become a safe haven for escaped refugees. Kirikage has since discontinued the use of this protocol after the devastation it caused.”

Sai stopped smiling when he realized their stilled and staring faces, unblinking and wide-eyed, not one of them smiling back at him.

“I do spend a lot of time at the library. I’m fond of reading books that examine emotionality more than anything,” he started to explain, not at all registering the horror on Naruto’s face, “but I found this interesting as a study of the human condition.”

Sakura moved first, reaching over the counter to retrieve another small, white, porcelain cup and the sake bottle sitting in front of Iruka, filling the cup with its alcoholic contents before slamming the cup down in front of Sai with a hard thunk.

“Drink.”

Sai picked up the cup, placed it to his lips, and began to drink, all the while staring curiously back at the pink-haired kunoichi.

“He wasn’t like that when I met him,” Naruto said, his eyes fluttering.

“Met him?” Yamato eyed the blonde suspiciously.

“Did you know that, Iruka-sensei?”

“Yes,” Iruka said, sullenly. “It helps to know the history of other shinobi villages, to help learn from our past. I wouldn’t bring up something of this nature in polite conversation, usually,” he said, nonetheless offering Sai a supportive smile, taking the younger man’s usual knack for the unusual into account. “In any case,” Iruka felt himself grow in size, towering over Naruto, “you would know if you ever cared to pay attention in my classes or bothered to show up all the time.”

“Now, now, Iruka-sensei…” Naruto chided, snickering, but the sudden fear of Iruka’s stern discipline manifested as he cowered against Yamato’s arm to get away from his fuming former sensei. “Be nice to me—I just came home from an important mission, remember?”

Iruka relented, sitting back, but his narrowed eyes lingered on the young man he would proudly call his own as memories of all the hell Naruto used to put him through resurfaced.

Iruka took his own drink.

The chunin hadn't known how much he longed for this camaraderie until sitting at the front counter of Ichiraku’s between Naruto and Sakura, with Yamato and Sai flanking their sides. It was a surreal intermission from the bleakness of his current existence, to hear another one of Naruto’s outlandish tales of their travels alongside Sakura’s rebuttals and Sai’s refusals to take sides.

Yamato’s presence wasn't as awkward as he felt it would have been, for whatever reason, but the antithesis of the chaos, tranquility incarnate. Yamato engaged Team 7 as an equal and they regarded him in kind, the mutual respect between them never lost or ever questioned, and Iruka felt as though he was a part of that, never felt the need to question whether or not he was a part of that respect.

“It was a straight shoot, from Amegakure to Konoha, nothing more,” Yamato said, from over Naruto’s shoulder, nursing his sake cup against his bottom lip. “We were not ambushed by a legion of swashbuckling ninneko.”

Iruka and Team 7 shared in hearty laughter as they sipped and slurped from their ramen bowls.

“I swear, Iruka-sensei, it happened!” Naruto exclaimed, noodles dangling from his mouth. Sai and Sakura snorted at his expense, Yamato placed a sympathetic arm around his shoulder and pulled him in close, but Iruka simply smiled against the palm of his hand, holding his chin with an ease of a man whose worries had all fallen to the wayside. “They dragged me out of my camper! These jokers didn’t even see it!”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Iruka agreed, taking another sip of sake.

“Another round?” Teuchi asked, swinging round the bend of the back kitchen. Ayame appeared right behind him, an empty tray in her hands to clean up the now empty and nearly empty bowels of ramen sitting before them, the heartwarming smile on her face a promise of more steaming hot noodle soaked in well seasoned beef and pork broth to come. “How about more sake?”

Yamato gripped the now emptied sake bottle by the neck and swung it in the air.

“Another round!”

“I think we’ve had enough sake for today,” Iruka chimed in, quick to snatch the bottle from Yamato’s sloppy grip and place it onto the tray in Ayame’s hands first. “Thank you, Ayame.”

“You’re welcome, Iruka-sensei,” she replied, cheerfully, smiling at Yamato and Iruka both. “May I take your bowls?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Naruto started, patting his barely bulging stomach, “but I think I’m gonna pass on that third round.”

The rest of Team 7, and Iruka, stared at him in disbelief.

“Are you sure?” Iruka asked, examining the younger man as though he were otherworldly or, as was a possibility, an imposter.

“Yeah…” Naruto looked to everyone and, as if sensing their apprehension, explained, “I haven’t visited…Hinata, yeah, and I think I’d just like to go home and unwind.”

“A fair assessment of one’s priorities,” Sai, complied, removing himself from his stool. “I too have plans to meet up with Ino Yamanaka.”

“I never see Ino these days,” Iruka lamented, offering Sai a regretful smile. “Tell her I said hello.”

“Of course.” Sai smiled back.

“Meeting up with Ino, huh?” Sakura said, clearly probing, ascending from her own stool with little urgency. “What’s that about?”

“I believe she intends to further befriend me. Our paths crossed not too long before we departed for Amegakure when she insisted that we spend more time together. She was being rather ugly about it,” Sakura hacked and heaved to disguise a sudden outburst of laughter, “but I’m getting a sense that’s merely her way of interacting with people.”

“You could say that…” Sakura’s eyes glistened with tears of laughter. She approached Iruka and, without warning, wrapped her arms around the man’s shoulders in a loose hug. “It’s nice seeing you, Iruka-sensei, especially with everything that’s happened.”

“It’s nice seeing you too, Sakura,” Iruka said, somewhat surprised by her more intimate show of affection.

“I believe it’s the sake,” Sai offered, helpfully, reading Iruka’s reddened face.

“I’m not the least bit affected,” Sakura argued, her face flushed a tint of pink that could rival her hair, removing herself from her former sensei. “Unlike you guys, I have every intention on doing the responsible thing and marching straight into the hospital for a post-mission checkup, UNLIKE YOU GUYS.”

“Alright, we get it,” Naruto whined, swatting her presence away. “You’re better than us, now, stop shouting.”

“Oh that’s rich, coming from you,” snapped Sakura.

“Sakura does make a valid point,” Sai supplied.

“Thank you, Sai.”

“Iruka-sensei! They’re ganging up on me!”

“Well, they’re not wrong,” Iruka chimed in, chuckling. “I see the sake makes you as loud as ever.” They all shared a chuckle at Naruto’s expense but the cheeky grin plastered across his face showed he embraced their good-natured teasing. “Do you need help out of your chair, too?”

Naruto eventually removed himself from his stool, smiling all the while, but Iruka watched him with a discernment his own show of levity masked rather well. Naruto was not as perpetually upbeat and to an almost airheaded degree as people thought he was; far from it, his high level of emotional intelligence helped him hide his feelings well, a fact that had always worried Iruka. Even now, there lingered a depth of sorrow behind the inebriated haze of Naruto’s eyes, an unspoken ache the theatrically optimistic blonde had learned quickly and expertly to hide from the world, lest he be punished for acting on his desires.

“You will stop by and visit me some time, yes?” Iruka asked, catching Naruto’s stare with a poignant one of his own, not wanting the younger man to leave without having an idea of what Iruka had sensed. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty more stories to tell, so if you ever want to talk…I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Iruka,” Naruto replied and, not missing a beat, wrapped his arms around Iruka’s shoulders and nearly pulled him off his stool with an abrupt but unrelenting hug. “I will,” he said, stepping away.

“Yamato-san, Iruka-sensei,” Sai said, waving amicably.

“Mm,” Yamato grunted, shooting his hand out into the air as a vague form of waving in return, remaining hunched over the counter in an indisposed stupor. “G’bye, y’kids.”

“Goodbye, Sai.” The chunin sensei waved back, delighting in Sai’s formal but endearing form of farewell. “I look forward to hearing more about your research,” he added, realizing he truly did want to know what Sai learned in his pursuit of understanding something as truly perplexing and as devastating as human emotions.

“Of course—I look forward to sharing, Iruka-sensei.”

After waving their goodbyes to Teuchi and Ayame and thanking them for their service, Sakura, Sai, and Naruto dipped under the flaps of the restaurant’s opening. The lower parts of their bodies could be seen before the three leapt off in different directions, going their separate ways.

 

“My goodness…” Iruka turned back, at the sound of Teuchi’s incredulous voice, with a look of apprehension. Ayame had since disposed of their bowls, the sake bottle and sake cups, and now held firmly onto her father’s arm as though he were in need of support. “That boy has never turned down another helping before,” Teuchi murmured, appearing in a state of shock. “Why, what ever did I do wrong?”

It took some coaxing from Ayame and Iruka to convince the man to return from his wounded state let alone convince him that he had done nothing wrong and that his dishes were as superb as ever. Only when smoke started to billow out from the serving window did he snap back into action, smiling nervously, rushing into the kitchen to put out the potential fire.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Ayame said, laughing lightly, unbothered by the nervous sweat upon her brow.

“…Exciting times here at Ichiraku’s,” Yamato finally spoke, lifting up from the counter.

“You could say that,” Iruka said, chuckling, his eyes wandering over the other man with nervous intrigue. “Care for some water, Captain Yamato?”

“Yes, please.”

Iruka ordered a pitcher of water, all the while watching Yamato out of the corner of his eyes, the other man’s steady gaze and learned composure an inspiring if not entertaining reality.

“Here we are!” Ayame reappeared, her forced laughter doing little to mask the panicked outbursts of her father. She placed a pitcher of water and an empty glass down on the counter’s surface with such intensity that they threatened to tip over before rattling to a full stop. “Sorry!” she called after herself, hurrying out of sight to help fend off the culinary beast her father now battled.

“No worries…!” Iruka called back, his voice trailing off. “Mm.”

“Thank you, Iruka-sensei.”

“Anytime…” Iruka turned to find Yamato with the pitcher and glass already in hand. He watched, perplexed, as the other man made quick work of the glass before refilling it with the water in the pitcher, completing this process before slamming the empty pitcher and glass against the countertop. “Yamato-san…?”

“I’m much better, Iruka-sensei, thanks,” Yamato proclaimed, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform. Removing his arm revealed a satisfied grin, uniquely handsome features, a look of contentment  that reeled in Iruka’s undivided attention and made him suddenly aware that in the absence of Sakura, Sai, and Naruto remained only himself and their team captain, alone. Not long after that realization did he notice the ruby tinge of Yamato’s face begin to recede, as though the effect of alcohol was wearing off. “What is it?”

“N-nothing,” Iruka said rapidly, his face burning at the idea that he’d been caught staring. “I’m just…surprised, is all. Are you actually sober?”

“Ha!” Yamato barked, slapping his hands against the counter, as clear an indication of lingering intoxication as any. “I’m sure you’ve noticed Naruto’s handy little ability to ingest anything and everything and go on for hours, unscathed, if he really wanted to…well, because of my Wood Release ability, I have this rather convenient way of absorbing and exhausting alcohol into my system. Water helps the process.”

“You’re only as drunk as you want to be, is what you’re saying?” Iruka surmised, with narrowing eyes, resting his arm against the counter to hold his chin in his fist and stare suspiciously. “Or maybe that’s just a highly convenient story to cover up the fact that you’re a lightweight who happens to recover well.”

“Make of it what you will, Iruka-sensei,” Yamato shrugged, smiling still.

Iruka felt that ease again, despite his sudden hyper-awareness, basking in that blasé nature very few jonin ever offered to share. Then Yamato would look at him in such a way, as though the pitch-black depths of his eyes could see right into Iruka’s thoughts, which always left the chunin feeling both unquestionably nervous and unanswerably exhilarated.

“In any case, I think it’s worth sobering up for good company,” Yamato added, with a wink, and Iruka thought he might have felt the heat of whatever kitchen fire that had transpired billow through the service window to slap him straight across the face.

“I’m flattered,” Iruka declared, with a broad smile, a flare of mischief creeping into his voice. “Except never before have I ever abandoned any fellow shinobi who was falling-over-themselves drunk, under any circumstance, and I suppose you’ve yet given me a reason to, so....”

“Then I appreciate your altruistic camaraderie.”

“I figured someone would have to stick around to help you stumble into the hospital for your post-mission evaluation. I’m surprised you didn’t do the _responsible thing_ and go with Sakura.”

“I would have gone the moment I realized Kakashi had no intention of meeting us for debriefing…but then I saw you.” Iruka did his best to remain polite, feign some semblance of ignorance as Yamato’s words caught him by surprise. He laughed lightly, his eyes grazing the restaurant for any kind of distraction.

“Is that so…?”

“We still haven’t had a follow-up to our last date, ya know.”

“Date?” Iruka’s mind panicked, forcing him to stare back at the tokubetsu jonin with what he felt might have been a rather unflattering and dumbfounded grin. “Is that what that was?”

“Iruka-sensei...” Yamato scooted closer or, at the very least, attempted to do so, as the length of the stool refused to move along with him. “Call it a date, dinner, an outing…either way, I enjoyed it a great deal.”

“Yamato-san—”

“Just Yamato, please.”

“Yamato,” Iruka began, and he couldn’t stop smiling, the sudden nervous energy of his superior too endearing and just a reminder as to why Iruka found comfort in the other man’s company…usually. He too felt a surge of nervousness, the response forming in his mind bringing about a truth he never had to admit to anyone who didn’t already know. “Yamato, I… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What?” The enthusiasm of Yamato’s mannerisms began to wane but, as the vague glaze in his eyes refocused, a realization seemed to hit him. “Oh… Kakashi.”

“Neh?”

“Finally made his move, did he?” Iruka found his head shooting around, searching for listening ears, but there didn’t seem to be any around who found interest upon hearing the Hokage’s given name.

Only a party of three, sitting at the other end of the counter, and a couple at a small square dining table at the back end of the restaurant, could possibly hear what they were saying. The marketplace outside bustled with villagers and refugees, alike, too many people to really make out any given conversation, and yet Iruka couldn’t help but worry that someone might overhear.

Why?

Was he ashamed? No, certainly not, but he was guarded, cautious about the nature of their relationship…but for whose sake, his or Kakashi’s?

“You _know_? Wait, what do you mean _finally_?” Now it was unmitigated laughter that threatened to take hold of Yamato’s sobering features, the likes of which had remained dutifully composed up until that point. “Don’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry, Iruka-sensei—”

“Iruka.”

“Sorry, Iruka, it’s just… I believe this conversation’s a long time coming.”

“Why do you say that?” Iruka asked, sporting a frown and a narrowed stare, the mischievous glint in Yamato’s eyes so far from the hopeful and anxious wreck he’d previously been just a few seconds ago that it drew suspicion from Iruka. “What’s so funny?”

“This,” Yamato said simply, gesturing to the world with the wave of his hand. “The matter humors me,” he added, the panicked wailing of Teuchi and his trusty daughter dying, at last, with what flashes of spontaneous flames lingered. Iruka coughed a bit, as the smoke fought to clear itself from out of the open restaurant, but Yamato stayed unaffected. He remained ever attentive to Iruka’s presence, his daunting yet alluring stare fixated on the chunin at all times. “You’re quite different, Iruka.”

“Th-thanks,” Iruka replied, his face utterly enflamed, but still worrying that he might have taken what might not have been a compliment as a compliment. “You’re not all that common yourself, Yamato.”

“There’s a reason why,” Yamato said bluntly, crossing his arms, “a reason I hope to share with you one day, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean? Because I’m not sure what’s happening right now…” Iruka’s heart sunk, as one possibility came to mind. He too attempted to scoot his stool closer but to no avail, so he settled with leaning closer as he hissed an enraged retort. “Was this some sort of game between you and him? Who could bed the lowly Academy instructor first?”

“You’ve slept together?”

“ _Yamato-taichou!_ ”

“Iruka, please,” Yamato put his hands up, in defense, sweating bullets. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Iruka backed away, realizing the invasion of personal space he’d committed, but Yamato didn’t seem antagonized by it. If anything, he looked upset, apologetic, as though angering Iruka had never been his intention and it showed. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s been a tiring and confusing week.”

“I gathered.”

“I can’t make sense of this.” Iruka took a deep breath, the same thoughts he’d been having all day repeating again in a relentless, never-ending loop. Iruka looked to Yamato, unashamed of the desperation he felt and the other more capable shinobi could surely see. “I feel invisible. It feels like nothing’s happened. He won’t acknowledge I exist anymore. The ninken say he can get this way but I can tell they’re not even convinced.”

Yamato looked down, a sudden musing in his mind, and Iruka waited with baited breath to hear him give some grand explanation that might forever course correct Iruka’s own damning thoughts. The chunin saw as much, the older man’s usually calm and cautious personality carefully crafting out a way in which to elaborate while remaining a model of charm and discretion.

“The ninken, oh Kami…”

“What about them?” Iruka braced himself for the worst. “What did they do?”

“What did they do,” Yamato repeated, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “It’s seems like so long ago, I almost forgot… _almost_. I guess you could say they did what any loyal ninken would.”

 

* * *

 

 

_"Yamato-taichou," Pakkun growled, his gruff voice emitting an unusually bitter tone. "We've got a bone to pick with you.”_

_“With me?” Yamato asked, pointing a finger against his flak jacket. This only seemed to incense the ninken further, as they continued to advance as a unified front. “What did I do?”_

_“It’s what you’re not doing,” Bull growled, his normally passive nature brimming with unbridled hatred, “and that’s staying away from Iruka-sensei.”_

_“What?” Yamato broke out into a disbelieving smile, his bemusement drawing the ninken even closer. The captain chose the tactful decision of stepping back with their every step forward. “Now, wait a second—”_

_“No more waiting,” Pakkun decreed, slashing the air with his tiny paw. “It’s time you know what’s what.”_

_“Yeah!” Guruko chimed in, pounding his front paws on the ground._

_“Is that so?”_

_“Kakashi likes Iruka-sensei.”_

_“Does he now?”_

_“I take it you already knew that.”_

_“Yeah,” Yamato verified, with dry wit. “I had my suspicions.”_

_“We didn’t think your ploy to woo Iruka-sensei with ramen dinner was just some innocent get-together, unlike some people.”_

_Yamato heaved a sigh, crossing his arms, but the amused almost provocative smile on his face stayed. “Well, you’re not technically people are you?”_

_“That’s it,” Bisuke barked. “Hold me back! Hold me back!” Uhei and Akino did just that, keeping the smallest of them back with the firm nudge of their snouts._

_“You can’t have him,” Pakkun stated, as though dictating a law of the land. “Kakashi claimed him first.”_

_“Is that how that works?”_

_Urushi bit in, a steady growl emitting from behind his bare, shark-like teeth. “When someone’s marked their territory, you don’t go sniffing it out behind their back.”_

_Yamato stared back at Kakashi’s ninken with an incredulity he reserved only for small children who said and did ridiculous and stupid things…or Naruto._

_“Iruka-sensei isn’t a thing, first and foremost. He can’t be claimed because he’s not a territory to mark. He’s a human being, an adult far more capable than you lot of deciding who he spends his time with and why.”_

_“Y-yes,” Pakkun stammered, “but—”_

_“No buts,” Yamato countered, the severity of his tone enough to send the ninken cowering in shame. “Kakashi’s capable of many things, but even he wouldn’t put you up to this.”_

_“No, he didn’t,” Pakkun attested, his eyes growing weary with doubt as he looked to his brother ninken, but he remained stalwart in his words. “We’re here on his behalf, because we know how he feels about Iruka-sensei.” The pug paused to offer Yamato a strangely consoling look. “We’re certain Iruka-sensei feels the same.”_

_Yamato’s face flinched only slightly, pulling away from a confounded frown, before revealing a devilish grin.._

_“You wouldn’t have cornered me in an empty alleyway, if that were entirely true.”_

_“Yamato-taichou—”_

_“Kudos on the execution,” Yamato said, turning from the ninken who had him completely surrounded. “You had me convinced you were someone in need, not a pack of mean-spirited ninken. Good talk, though.”_

_Yamato jumped off to the nearest roof, flickering out of sight and away from the eight pairs of canine eyes following his movements, silently commending what decency they possessed that they left it at that._

* * *

 

“Those idiots,” Iruka griped, dragging a hand through his neatly tied hair. The look of learned indifference on Yamato’s face made him feel worse, because he knew the look... Iruka spent most of his childhood in that numb state, fostering in himself a willful ignorance in the face of adversity.

It seemed as if Yamato had developed that same kind of willfulness when it came to Iruka.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I wish this wasn’t so complicated,” Iruka said, almost inaudibly, sinking back into his stool. The chunin exhaled deep between sulking shoulders.

“…It’s simple, actually,” Yamato stated, with utmost calm, and, as Iruka turned to face him, he was met with a familiar peaceful gaze and a sheepish grin. The jonin captain went to pour water into his empty glass and, upon realizing he’d previously downed all of its contents, set the pitcher aside and settled against the counter with a bent arm. “I like you, Iruka. It’s foolish to say, but there’s something about you that makes the day brighter. I may never have had the privilege of knowing you, had I not been assigned to Team 7, and that’s a troubling thought. That’s how I feel, and it has nothing to do with anything or anyone else.”

“Yamato…” Iruka felt his heart sink again, not for his sake, but for the jonin captain sitting before him. The chunin couldn’t deny that Yamato often made him feel a way he refused to analyze until now. It wasn’t just that night, when Yamato had treated him to Ichiracku’s and his good company, but all the words of welcome and camaraderie the jonin captain had ever bestowed upon him, the way he too had protected and cared for Naruto, and the looks and the grazes and the affection he gave freely… Only now did Iruka accept its significance. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I did, I mean, I thought I did,” Yamato admitted, donning a look of confusion. “I didn’t think I was that subtle. I thought that, if you really wanted to, you’d catch on…and you never did.”

Iruka looked to the floor, accepting the role of the naïve chunin sensei he’d been determined to play.

“I’m not that daft.”

“I know that, Iruka, which is why I kept my distance. Gave you space. I’m not daft, either. I could see it…saw what even he couldn’t see or wouldn’t see himself, for a very long time.”

“A long time?”

“The way he talked about you. The way he still talks about you.” Yamato shook his head. “The man was obsessed with you and I knew what that meant.”

“Why tell me? Why advocate for him? Why didn’t you just come to me?”

“I’m telling truth,” Yamato shrugged, “putting it all out there. If anything, I should have done this a long time ago, I know…” the jonin paused, staring at Iruka intently, holding the back of his head in his hand as he leaned on the counter’s surface for support. “He really does care for you, you know. This isn’t the sake talking.”

“Clearly,” Iruka frowned.

“I care for you, too.”

“It’s strange,” Iruka looked to his hands, balled up fists pressing into his thighs, before releasing them from their unrelenting hold. “You’ve always been good to me, Yamato.” Iruka smiled to himself. “You’ve always been a good colleague and a good friend. I’ll admit, I’ve had thoughts, times when I’ve imagined you and me and it does make sense. It makes more sense to me than having to deal with wondering where I stand all the time.”

Iruka, face burning bright, averted Yamato’s gaze in.

“I know you don’t want to hear any of this, all considering,” he quickly added. “I haven’t been a good friend in return, have—Mmph!”

It felt longer than it lasted, the earnest press of Yamato’s lips against his own making time an inadequate measurement of the moment. Even after the shock that had initially rendered him unresponsive wore off, Iruka didn’t pull away. He found himself unwilling to risk tormenting Yamato further with an act of rejection. Instead, he simply allowed the kiss to happen, marveling in the fullness of the other man’s lips, the foreign tenderness the chunin didn’t often associate with most jonin kind. When Yamato eventually pulled away, a move filled with reluctant hesitance, Iruka reopened his eyes, his entire being flushed from embarrassment, when he realized they’d drifted close.

“S-sorry,” Yamato stammered, the pinkish tinge of his cheeks reddening with realization of what he’d just done. Yamato even went so far as to try and distance himself, but scooting back against the fixed stool beneath him only resulted in clumsy movements and the jonin fumbling forward to hold onto the counter.

“Yamato!” Iruka reached out, grasping hold of Yamato’s arm by the red band of his sleeve, helping the older man resituate himself. He did so, derisively. “Sober my ass.”

“I just wanted to know what that felt like.”

“What, a kiss?”

“No,” Yamato shook his head, “kissing you.”

“…Ah-hem.” Iruka and Yamato turned to find Teuchi, with an uncomfortable yet jovial grin and red cheeks adorning his face, and Ayame, with a gleeful smile and hearts in her eyes, staring back at them from the kitchen entrance. “Would you gentlemen like some more refreshments?”

“Heh,” Iruka smiled back, rubbing the back of his neck in a fit of nervousness, but it wasn’t the familiar faces of Teuchi and Ayame putting him on edge. The sounds of the restaurant went from boisterous laughter and idle chatter to soft whispers and reactionary noises. Iruka turned back to Yamato, marveled at his abject complacency, but the eyes and hard stares he saw from his peripherals caused him to panic. “Thank you, Teuchi, but I think we’ve had enough for today.”

“First Naruto and now you, Iruka-sensei?” Teuchi slapped a hand against his forehead. “My best patrons are learning…restraint!” Ayame readied to support the weight of her father as he stumbled back with dramatic effect. “We may never recover.”

“I think it’s time we get you to the hospital, Yamato-san.”

“I knew what I felt,” Yamato began, lifting his arms to accommodate the chunin sensei now helping him to his feet. “I knew you felt it, too. That if things were different…we’d have a chance, wouldn’t we?”

“Yes, Yamato,” Iruka conceded, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You’re not wrong.”

“Do we have a chance?” Yamato’s attention had yet to veer off from Iruka. The chunin sensei saw from under the weight of his friend and fellow shinobi an incredible zeal of hopefulness still exuding from his all-consuming stare. “I’m not a bad kisser, am I?”

“Thank you for the service, Teuchi-san,” Iruka said, on behalf of both himself and Yamato, making sure to show his gratitude with a respectful bow, even with a full-grown man using him like a crutch. “We’ll indulge more on our next visit.”

“I hope so!” Teuchi beamed.

“Ayame-kun.” Iruka bowed and Ayame bowed in kind.

“You two have a nice day!” Ayame called out, as Iruka half-walked, half-dragged a staggering Yamato out of the restaurant, the knowing wink she gave him as they left causing him to misstep and nearly drop Yamato as he grappled with a keen sense of discomfort.

 

* * *

 

Iruka managed to escort Yamato the hospital with little incident, the excess crowds proving a welcomed distraction while landing and jumping off from various points between the marketplace and the village proper. Much like Gazelle and Gorilla had done with Kakashi, Iruka made sure Yamato made it to the attending medic-nin assigned to his post-mission examination before making any plans to leave. Yamato seemed compliant enough, definitely not as sober as he continued to claim throughout their short travel, but had expressed a somber amount of displeasure at Iruka’s departure.

Iruka returned to the administrative building with a sigh of relief waiting to escape him. After reentering the Hokage’s office, he spent a good deal of time pressed against the double doors with his head leaning back and his eyes closed, just grateful for the seclusion he’d clearly taken for granted.

The elation of seeing Team 7 again, knowing they were safe and no worse for wear, overwhelmed him while resting against the doors. It made everything else seem insignificant, knowing the people he cared about to an unfathomable degree had returned unscathed from a mission with an uncertain outcome.

He experienced only a fleeting realization of Anko’s absence while approaching an empty desk and chair, the woman’s tendency to abandon responsibility if it meant pursuing something of interest a character flaw he’d long since accepted of her. What surprised him, however, was the lack of paperwork and scrolls and communications strewn about the desk. It had been cleared, with the exception of piece of note paper left on its surface.

Iruka circled around the desk before picking up, the calm he felt upon returning quickly dismantling under the presence of this otherwise innocuous slip of paper that seemed to have been left behind by mistake.

The chunin picked it up and there, in a familiar chicken-scratch writing style, were two words scrawled across in thick, black ink.

**Go home.**

Iruka’s heart plummeted within his chest. That feeling of paranoia, the sense of being watched, returned to him. He looked around, knowing full well he wouldn’t suddenly see some figure lurking in a brightly lit room with no real corners, but it made him feel better to check. More so, he didn’t expect the Rokudaime to appear in his own office, Kami forbid, especially if it meant being in the same room as Iruka.

It posed more questions than it answered and yet Iruka found himself wanting to not care. He forced himself not to reminisce on all those painstaking hours spent executing his duties with little to no appreciation for his work, the barrage of disputes he had to settle and harassment he endured to ensure that the governing body of Konoha remained functional and accessible to the village. He embraced his tire and an indifference to the onslaught of political warfare manifesting through ordinates and official channels that had resulted in the chaos of overpopulation and social tensions that surrounded him.

Best of all, it had taken only two words and a lack of any real form of communication to permit a similar detachment and disinterest toward the current status of his love life.

Iruka went home.

He went home and slept better than he had in some time, the rest of the day passing in a dreamless state as he savored unconsciousness. The absence of fur and wagging tails, the canine bodies that usually kept his bed warm, did not escape his notice so much as imagining their behavior towards Yamato made him weary with disapproval and disinclined to care for their presence. Iruka had removed all thoughts from his mind, specifically those of a certain jonin leader who, evidently, did not think of him similarly, closing his eyes to the sight of his hands stretching out against the empty space of bed beside him.

 At some point, the chunin had to get up. Despite his exhaustion, going to bed around three in the afternoon guaranteed that he, though not a light sleeper, would find himself coming to around eight that evening. Iruka didn’t bother with the lights, possessing an instinctual knowledge of his apartment’s layout, so he slipped out of his bedroom and into the hallway under the cover of darkness. Only when he entered his bathroom did he bother to turn on the light and, after catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he wished he hadn’t.

Iruka hadn’t bothered to take off his uniform, which now wrinkled and creased hideously. The dark circles of his eyes cried out for more sleep, more than any five hour nap could supply, while the removal of his hair tie and hitai-ite made certain that he awoke looking more unhinged than when provoked into bouts of unmitigated fury.

He ventured from the bathroom to the kitchen, in hopes that a glass of water would make him look and feel less terrible, reaching for the living room light switch as he went.

“Geez!” Iruka jolted back, clutching his chest, the instinct to reach for the nearest kunai sitting on the mantle to his right and fling it at the lone figure sitting on his couch remaining as he stared down the nonthreatening intruder. “Kakashi?”

“Iruka.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Maa… Do I need a reason to visit?”

“What are you doing sitting in the dark like a crazy person? No, you know what? Never mind.”

Iruka marched from the hallway entrance and into the kitchen, not once sparing the other man another glance. It would only incite him further, he knew, to witness Kakashi’s ease as he sat with his legs crossed over and his arms folded in, as if he’d been resting there for some time. Instead, Iruka focused on his objective. The chunin snatched a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the faucet, gulped it down in one fell swoop, before marching back out of the kitchen.

“I’m going back to bed,” he mumbled, in passing. “Enjoy your insanity.”

“…Are you angry with me?”

Iruka refused to turn around but stopped when he felt the jonin move to stand.

“You left your post today,” Kakashi spoke again, his words sounding almost accusatory. Iruka, practically shaking with barely restrained anger, turned to face a man who would dare try to provoke him in such a way.

“Which time?” Iruka asked. “When I left Anko in charge or when you sent me home?”

“Mm…” Kakashi remained a stone wall of non-emotion. When Iruka imagined his gorgeous lips managing any human expression, the idea only culminated with the jonin’s masked face on the receiving end of his fist. “Anko is more than capable of fulfilling your duties, tasks I had assigned to you and you alone, so that you can indulge in an afternoon meal.”

“Yeah, I had lunch. So what?”

“You had lunch with Team 7.”

“Yeah,” Iruka snapped. “They came into the office, expecting a debriefing with the Rokudaime, and we all went out for ramen when they realized you weren’t there.”

“How are they? I take it their mission went well?” Kakashi asked, the first hint of emotion resonating in his voice “I had no time to debrief them today. I intend to tomorrow.”

“Then ask them yourself and leave me alone.”

“Surely, you can tell me how Yamato’s doing.”

“I sure as hell can.”

Iruka did everything in his power not to throw something at Kakashi. Anything, really. He had a lot of crap, albeit crap he cherished immensely, in his apartment that already constituted as a weapon. The chunin settled for scowling at the man, judging him, allowing his suspicions to further solidify how much he despised the man in front of him.

“Goodnight, Kakashi-sama.”

Iruka turned to leave, not caring to hear anything else Kakashi had to say…had to reveal. He simply hadn’t the endurance to entertain Kakashi’s provocation. Despite the shinobi world teetering on the edge of a new conflict, whatever they were to each other, the jonin seemed determined to contrive more and more ways in which to chip away at his spirit. In that moment, Iruka realized how tired he was of having to make sense of senselessness.

That’s when he felt it, the gloved hand gripping his arm, pulling him back and forcing him up against the solid body of another. Iruka’s hateful pair of eyes met with Kakashi’s one, its serene ferocity making it on par with looking into the eye of a storm.

“You kissed him.”

“He kissed me,” Iruka corrected, flinging his wrist out of Kakashi’s grasp, refusing to show any sign of intimidation. “I didn’t kiss him, he kissed me,” he repeated, and the spark of anger in Kakashi’s eye noticeably flickered into a soft ember. “If the Anbu you assigned to follow me around have a problem with recounting the facts as they are, then maybe take that up with them.”

“They’re there as protection. I believed you understood that.”

“Protecting someone and spying on someone are two very different things, Kakashi…”

“What does he want from you?”

“What do you want from me?” Iruka all but yelled, throwing his hands into the air. “You want me close by but pretend I don’t exist. You’ve got a pack of Anbu watching and relaying information on my every movement? Why? What’s with the notes? You barely speak to me for days on end, and then just appear in my apartment one night like nothing’s happened. Is it just sex, Kakashi? Discretion you want?” Iruka paused, wallowing in the pain of his own words, a hurt he couldn’t shroud in anger. “Maybe I’m not the one who should be offering up answers.”

“Iruka…” Kakashi reached out, to run a hand down the side of Iruka’s face, but the chunin pulled away in defiance. Kakashi frowned. “Get over yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“I am the Hokage,” he barked, inching ever so close, but Iruka would be damned if Kakashi would stand over him. “I accept you’re a more than adequate shinobi, capable of fending for yourself, but allow me the privilege of having my own security team look out for you. I assigned you to the Hokage’s office not to punish you but because I trust you, more than anyone, with the sensitive information I receive.” Kakashi took hold of Iruka’s arm again, pulling him impossibly closer, but this time Iruka didn’t resist. “And if I seem distant, it is because I am trying very hard to keep our personal and professional lives separate. It’s the Shinobi Rules that Konoha still officially upholds, Iruka. You know that. I have to remain objective, above reproach. If people put two and two together, it calls into question every decision I’ve ever made. It puts you in the crossfire. I couldn’t risk the fallout. Not right now.”

“Then just say that!” Iruka shouted, pushing Kakashi away.

“Hey!” hollered the shrill voice of an elderly woman. Iruka and Kakashi looked down, intrigued by the sudden sound of thumping beneath their feet. “Pipe down up there! Some of us are trying to sleep in peace!”

“Sorry, Tanaka-sama!” Iruka called down, shouting over the pokes and prods of her broomstick. “We’ll keep it down. Please, stop hitting the ceiling!”

Mrs. Tanaka stopped.

Iruka turned back to Kakashi, scowling still. “Why not just tell me that, then?”

“I believed it was implied,” Kakashi said, expressing no remorse. “I came here to clear the air between us.”

“Of course you did,” Iruka seethed, rolling his eyes. “After two weeks of ignoring me… You must really want to know how Yamato’s doing.”

“Hey,” Kakashi tightened his hold on Iruka, adopting a steely stare the chunin ignored. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Really?” Iruka stared blankly. “I don’t remember the question.”

“Don’t…please.” Kakashi’s hold went lax, but his fingers began kneading gentle circles into Iruka’s arm. It was off-putting but not unwanted, Iruka’s surprise apparent in his softening eyes. “I’m not perfect, am I?”

“You sure do act like you are.” Kakashi moved in closer and Iruka, lost in the intensity of Kakashi’s visible eye, practically melted into the embrace. The older man exuded an allure the chunin could never truly describe or escape. Maybe it was why Iruka tolerated years of his special kind of torment. Beneath the Hokage robes he wore, behind his mask, the prestige of his family name and the fame and recognition acquired by his own, Kakashi was merely a flawed man. Only through knowing him, seeing how he fostered loyalty and strength within Naruto, the way he supported his comrades and sacrificed his safety for the village, for Iruka… The chunin looked away, blushing. “You’re making an effort.”

“Did it mean anything to you?” Kakashi murmured, and Iruka closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Kakashi’s masked chin and the heat of his breath.

“It meant something to Yamato,” Iruka sighed, “and, as his friend, I respect his feelings.”

“If it means him acting on those feelings whenever he pleases, then I’ll have to respectfully disagree.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Iruka pulled away, stifling an amused grin, “I’d say you were jealous.”

“Very,” Kakashi admitted, without hesitation, rendering Iruka speechless. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I honestly don’t know anymore.” Iruka couldn’t take it anymore. They were too close, after being apart for too long. He reached up, slipping his fingers beneath the material of Kakashi’s mask, feeling the unexposed skin with newfound eagerness. Iruka wondered when the novelty would wear off when Kakashi’s hands encircled his own and, together, they pulled down his mask.

Where Yamato was earnest and tender, Kakashi kissed him with a passion that took Iruka’s breath away. It burned, beginning from their entwined lips and spreading like wildfire, everywhere Kakashi’s fingers touched stoking a new ember of pleasure. Iruka buried his hands into Kakashi’s impossible hair, kissing deeper and just as hard, wanting to give as good as got. Kakashi snaked his arms around Iruka’s lower back and closed the space between them once and for all. Iruka reveled in the feeling, the memory of skin clinging to skin and the way Kakashi’s calloused hands set out to possess every inch of his body until Iruka felt nothing but the ecstasy of his consumption, sparking a need in the chunin that presented itself in the hardness in his pants. He felt Kakashi, hard and pressing into him, and knew what they both needed.

“I believe you made quite the claim, some time ago,” Iruka said, breathlessly, between clinging kisses.

“Did I?”

“Yes, you did,” Iruka dragged his hands down the front of Kakashi’s Hokage robes. “Do you remember?”

“Maa…I can’t say I do,” Kakashi hummed, dipping beneath Iruka’s jaw line to graze the sensitive skin beneath his turtleneck. “You’ll have to remind me.”

Iruka shivered as the words vibrated against his skin.

“Y-you said,” Iruka stammered, the slick, wet warmth of Kakashi’s tongue lapping down the length of his neck and making it difficult to form words. “You said you’d make me forget all about cleanliness the day I let you have me.”

“The cleanliness of your bedroom, you mean,” Kakashi murmured against him. Iruka rolled his eyes, feeling Kakashi’s teasing smile pressed into his flesh.

“Whatever,” Iruka said, tugging impatiently at the jonin’s hair. “Do you want me or not?” Kakashi removed himself from Iruka’s embrace, much to the chunin’s dismay, with a wild look in his eye. Iruka bit at his lower lip, nervous beyond belief, but the determination in Kakashi’s stare, the pressure of his hands as they clutched and grasped at his body, were enough to further encourage Iruka’s desires.

“I believe there was a ripping off your clothes clause that applied specifically to your bedroom hamper rule, Iruka.”

Kakashi and Iruka pressed their foreheads together.

“Then why are we still standing here, Hokage-sama?”

“Iruka-sensei…?”

They pulled away, removing their hands from each other. Kakashi made an effort to shield his face by turning away from the person showing up at Iruka’s apartment.

“Naruto?” Iruka moved further, still, hurrying away from Kakashi as though propelled by an invisible force. Iruka turned outward, masking his surprise behind a manic grin, hoping to veer all attention towards himself and himself alone. The blonde shut the door behind him, never once taking his eyes off either of his former senseis. “What are you doing here?”

“You gave me a key, a long time ago, remember? I-I thought I’d let myself in. You said I could stop by and we could…talk?” Naruto clearly tried but couldn’t ignore Kakashi’s presence forever, giving in to the question in his eyes. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Kakashi turned back to face his former charge, with his mask back in place, as Iruka tugged at his turtleneck for good measure.

“I come and go as I please,” Kakashi said, straightening out his robes, and Iruka momentarily stopped breathing. “I’m as welcomed in Iruka’s home as you are, Naruto.”

“Naruto—yes, of course,” Iruka breathed, approaching the younger man. Naruto didn’t move, at first, his bright blue eyes racing back and forth between Iruka and Kakashi. Iruka panicked, trying to figure out when Naruto must have stepped in and why he hadn’t sensed his presence until then. Kakashi, annoyingly boastful about his skills of constant vigilance, would have surely felt Naruto’s chakra the moment he arrived on the premises and yet he said nothing. Iruka flashed a peeved frown in Kakashi’s direction, before turning back to address Naruto. “Of course, we can talk.”

Naruto nodded but said nothing, looking between Kakashi and Iruka still, his brain no doubt trying to catch up with what his eyes had seen. Iruka didn’t think Naruto an imbecile, believed he’d piece it together eventually, but that didn’t stop him from reddening with embarrassment at being caught in the act.

Except there seemed to be no want for confrontation in Naruto’s eyes, no will to pry, just a desperate want for Iruka’s company.

“Please, Naruto,” he urged, wringing his hands together. “Have a seat. Stay for as long as you’d like.”

“Then I’ll take my leave.”

“What?” Iruka jerked his had back in Kakashi’s direction. “No.”

“Yeah, do that.”

“Naruto.” Iruka used his best warning tone.

“It’s fine,” Kakashi insisted, grinning with his eye. The man glided passed Iruka and, to the chunin’s dismay, stopped next to Naruto to slip on the pair of sandals he’d left by the door. Iruka watched the blonde inhale a deep breath, his hands balling into tight fists, Kakashi’s very proximity enough to make Naruto’s face strain with mild rage. “Naruto.”

“Yes, Hokage-sama?” Naruto bit out, never once taking his eyes off of Iruka.

Kakashi, too, did not look at Naruto but continued to face Iruka’s front door. “I expect you in my office, oh-nine-hundred, tomorrow. The rest of Team 7, as well. I have a new assignment for you.”

“Yes…Hokage-sama.”

“Iruka-sensei.” Kakashi turned, offering Iruka a slight bow, and, just like that, Iruka felt Kakashi’s conditioned formality. Rather than question it and worry, the chunin swallowed his misgivings and offered a much deeper bow in return.

“Kakashi-sama,” he said, before rising, doing his best to mask his disappointment.

Kakashi left, leaving a troublesome silence in Iruka’s apartment. Naruto made his way to the couch, his stare timid, though there to talk, clearly, at a loss for words. Iruka squeezed his arm as he passed, a gesture Naruto neither embraced nor rejected, which the chunin sensei took as a good sign.

“Shall I put on some tea?” Iruka said, rushing back into the kitchen, grabbing hastily at the teakettle on the stove with a trembling hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here's hoping Kakashi and Iruka actually share a scene together, where they talk to each other!, in this new Naruto Generations series.
> 
> Shout out to reader/author MirandaZ for always looking out for me ^_^ Don't think this chapter would have come out without her continued encouragement. < 3
> 
> Happy Channakwanzachristmikah! Or something!


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kakashi briefs Team 7 on their next assignment, if not as compassionately as Iruka would like. In the fallout, Iruka visits the orphanage with Naruto before arriving home to a night with Kakashi that's long overdue. Meanwhile, the leader of the Hidden Leaf's past threatens to disturb the future of Konohagakure.

TEN YEARS AGO

“Their eyes are watching us,” Jiraiya pronounced, as lax as ever in his gait. “Can you feel it?”

“Mm… What an interesting stock of crops, given the incompatibility of the terrain. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Don’t remember the coast having any farmland, that’s for damn sure.”

Jiraiya and Kakashi travelled, possessed of both ease and caution, winding down a dirt and dust road that had proven a straight shoot from port. The ease came from a learned tendency to anticipate any possibly hostile situation at any given turn, their caution instinctual, as natural as breathing, the dominion of which the difference between life and death in their line of work.

Jiraiya kept one keen eye sweeping through the rows of sugar cane obstructing their line of sight in every direction and a passive one on his travelling companion, the younger man’s stone-faced expression reassurance of his readiness to engage in combat. It had taken time and effort but, with some confidence, Jiraiya could say he now knew how to tell the difference between apathy and agency upon Kakashi’s fine silver brow.

“It’s quite a good stock, still,” Jiraiya conceded, tilting sideways to pluck a stem of sugar cane out from the root.

“I agree,” Kakashi said, with his eye fixed on the road ahead, the sugar cane fields that surrounded them far from his concern. “We’re close.”

“Ah, good,” Jiraiya sighed, happily, grinning from ear to ear. “After our miserable sea voyage, I’m doubly looking forward to retiring to that most noble of establishments.”

“An inn?”

“No, a brothel.”

“I didn’t find our time on the ferry miserable.”

“It was our accompanying ferryman that was miserable.” Jiraiya huffed, readjusting the pack on his back. “That stingy, grudge-holding, cheapskate! Double the price?”

“For you, Jiraiya,” Kakashi noted, calmly, “not me.”

“I’m nearly tapped out, for Kami’s sake!” The older man wailed towards the sky, tears rolling down his face. “I needed that money.”

“I suppose you’ll now have less to spend in that most noble of establishments.”

Jiraiya turned to Kakashi, clasping his hands together, a glint of hope in his scheming eyes. “You’ll spot me, yeah?”

“Hey you!”

The two travelers from Konoha stopped and saw, standing ahead of them, a lone male figure with a scythe in his hand.

“Ma.” Kakashi swayed back, in the corner of Jiraiya’s eyes, pretending an astonishment he quickly took to imitating. “Would you look at that, Old Man…people do exist here.”

“What are you doing in our fields?”

“Our apologies,” Jiraiya called out, to the supposed farmer standing before them, offering a small bow of respect. “My…nephew and I are but weary travelers who have lost their way.”

“This is private property.”

“Strange that private property would have a public road cutting through it,” Kakashi breathed, earning a quick jab in his side by his older companion.

“I assure you, we were not aware,” Jiraiya stammered, feigning nervousness, but the damage had already been done. On one side of Jiraiya emerged two other questionable-looking individuals and on Kakashi’s side another three, all wearing the garbs of a farmer, brandishing a variety of farming tools, except they didn’t possess the physicality of farmers. A boy stood out among them, maybe a few years younger than Kakashi, the nervous shifting of his eyes not nearly as convincing as the other’s scowling faces. “We’ll just be on our way, then.”

“Yes,” The farmer acting as their leader said, stepping to one side of the road. “Then be on your way.”

Kakashi led the way, with Jiraiya not far behind, the two Konoha shinobi keeping a vigilant eye on the group’s positions and any sudden movements of the four men, one woman, and one boy watching them pass. Jiraiya watched as Kakashi paused before the leader, giving him a curt nod and, more importantly, assessing him of every detail he possessed in the blink of an eye.

A few minutes of distance and both Kakashi and Jiraiya dropped their façade of lost, wandering, common folk.

“As far as welcoming parties go, they’re not the most pleasant group of scoundrels I’ve encountered,” Jiraiya quipped, readjusting his pack, his eyes never ceasing to wander the tops of sugar cane crops for any nearby movement.

“I’m sure we haven’t seen the last of their hospitality,” Kakashi replied, his demeanor growing defensive, ready to strike, but his gaze remaining calm, fixed upon the road ahead.

 

* * *

 

PRESENT DAY

 

Naruto didn’t stay the night, to Kakashi’s relief.

The jonin returned, as was inevitable, after his former subordinate’s departure and after Iruka had already retired for the evening. The night was quiet and calm, the weather a crisp but bearable chill, where outside stragglers eagerly retired from their evening escapades into the comforting confinements of their homes.

Kakashi could breathe, in such conditions, navigating through the village via rooftops with a certain level of covertness. He took time to reflect on his earlier assessment of Konohagakure, during Naruto’s visit, its current overpopulation and other glaring issues that had been brought up in endless meetings with department heads and village elders.

It was morning now.

The arm wrapped around his midsection weighed heavy and felt warm to the touch. Kakashi held it beneath his own, stroking it idly, waking to the light of day against his front and a solid body against his back.

It was nice.

Iruka’s evident exhaustion had resulted in a slumber too deep for him to notice when Kakashi had slipped into his bed. The jonin had been hesitant to do so, at first, standing at the foot of the bed, simply staring as the chunin in question remained oblivious to his presence. In the dark, Kakashi’s keen eye could see Iruka’s dark hair splayed out against his pillow, the subtle flutter of the man’s eyelids, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the dog tags, Kakashi’s dog tags, dangling from his neck.

The lack of precaution would forever dissatisfy Kakashi. Any shinobi worth their weight in gold would have reinforced their homesteads many times over, with tripwires and traps too intricate for familiars and intruders alike to evade, but not the chunin sensei sleeping before him.

_“You’re too trusting,”_ Kakashi had whispered into the night, a sentiment he recalled having always held where Iruka was concerned. _“Among other things…”_

Iruka cared too much. Iruka believed their world could function on goodness and honesty, commodities rarely traded among shinobi kind, and so a vexation remained in Kakashi. Staring at the other man who, in that moment, lay so vulnerable to the schemes of others, Kakashi felt shame…for being complicit, an active player, in such affairs. He didn’t used to feel this guilt, this maddening sense of accountability, and perhaps he might never have had the chunin resting so serenely, beckoning Kakashi to his bed with the allure of peace and comfort, not become a fixture in his life.

Kakashi did away with his attire rather swiftly, shedding his Hokage robes, his shinobi gear, his jonin-grade uniform, his mask, until everything piled onto the floor of Iruka’s bedroom. Then it was only him, standing bare, before slinking his way into Iruka’s unconscious embrace.

The next day, Kakashi had Iruka’s fingers entwined with his own, holding him near, until the face burrowed into his shoulder wound up in the crook of his neck.

The jonin hummed, delighted, closing his eye to the rising sun as it splintered through the window blinds.

“…Shut up.” Iruka’s voice, breathy and subdued, ghosted over Kakashi’s skin, sending a jolt down the paler man’s body and into his already hardened groin. He felt evidence of Iruka’s own morning arousal pressed against him and marveled momentarily at what surprising yet not unforeseeable series of events had led them to this point. “I can hear you thinking,” the chunin grumbled, miserably.

“I didn’t know you had that ability,” Kakashi murmured back, playfully. “Can you hear what I’m thinking now?”

“Nothing sanitary, I imagine.”

“You’re the one pressing into me.”

“That’s not by intent, make no mistake.”

“I can feel your face reddening, Iruka-sensei.”

Kakashi turned and, sure enough, Iruka’s face proved a deep crimson while smothered into the pillow beneath him. The sight caused a small smile to form across Kakashi’s lips, an expression drawn out by amusement and something more nuanced that made the chunin’s attempt to hide his embarrassment more endearing than inept, charming and not at all indicative of a personal failing. Out of instinct, and the thrill of the feat, the jonin found himself leaning down to plant a kiss on the darker man’s exposed forehead.

“Shall I take care of this?” he asked, trailing sinewy fingers down Iruka’s taut midsection to rest atop his strained member. Iruka squirmed but did not escape Kakashi’s hold, the residual tugs of slumber too strong to yet form cognitive movements.

“Who knew,” Iruka groaned, clinging to the sheets, “you’d be such a _generous_ lover?”

“Is that what I am…your lover?”

The question received a response Kakashi anticipated, as Iruka turned over to stare at him with certain surprise and wonder. It was clear the chunin had never considered using the word for what had become of them or, if he had, never thought he’d hear Kakashi say it. The jonin smirked, again, charmed by Iruka’s behavior, causing even more alarm to exude from the depths of Iruka’s groggy, brown eyes.

“Now I sense panic.”

“L-lover?” Iruka managed, the red in his cheeks growing pale against his tan skin.

Kakashi’s roving hand froze at the waistline of Iruka’s pajama pants.

“That was my impression,” Kakashi began, pulling away. The chunin’s body had tensed up, though still arrested by fatigue, rendering Kakashi hesitant to continue. “Am I wrong?”

“N-no, no…” Iruka stretched, rubbing his eyes in the palms of his hands. “Sorry…still waking up.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“Ass,” Iruka yawned, his eyes squeezing shut, and then he blinked, hard, the hand shielding his eyes from daylight pulling at his face.

“…Am I wrong?” Kakashi repeated the question.

“…No,” Iruka whispered, his gaze sobering, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on Kakashi’s chest. “We’re lovers.”

“Good.”

Iruka’s muscles relaxed and Kakashi shifted, placing one hand against Iruka’s pillow, next to the chunin’s head, supporting his weight as he leant down and pressed their lips together. Iruka responded immediately, kissing back, lifting the hand on Kakashi’s chest to run his fingers through the hair on the back of Kakashi’s head. Kakashi pressed further, aligning himself against Iruka, until both their hardened members rubbed together through the fabric of their pants. Iruka moaned against him, strengthened his hold on the back of Kakashi’s head, and Kakashi reveled in the rhythmic albeit achingly slow grind of their bodies.

It came easy, wanting Iruka, accepting the position of vulnerability their intimacy required. Kakashi couldn’t recall the last time he’d gone without a mask, while in the presence of another, and for such an extensive amount of time. Entertaining a bedfellow for any reason other than fleeting sexual engagement had always seemed counterproductive, as well.

This was different.

Kakashi had come to terms with not frequenting his own home, a long time ago, as he elected to spend most of his time in the humble abode of the man who now clung to his back in wanton grasps to draw him nearer. Kakashi, without conscious motive, had made the transition from sleeping on Iruka’s couch to sleeping in his bed…a privilege he didn’t intend to treat lightly.

“I take it you’ve accepted my offer?” Kakashi asked, between intensifying kisses, his hand trailing down Iruka’s front again to palm the outline of his erection.

“I really shouldn’t, though,” Iruka murmured, reluctantly. “Oh, Kami…” The chunin pulled away, eyeing Kakashi both sleepily and apologetically as he cupped a hand over his mouth. “My breath smells awful.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” Kakashi replied, leaning forward to leave trace kisses across the exposed skin of Iruka’s shoulder. “I’ve yet to encounter an individual with impeccable morning breath.”

“Even so...” Iruka trailed off, turning his head. Kakashi took advantage of his movements, trailing kisses up the chunin’s collarbone, to his extended neck, until his lips met with the heat of Iruka’s face. “Kakashi…” Iruka hissed out his name, a warning and an emission of pleasure, as Kakashi dipped his hand beneath Iruka’s waistband and wrapped it around his length. “A-ah, don’t—”

“Don’t what?”

“You don’t quit, do you?” Iruka said, glaring, his whole body flushing, but his breath hitched in response to the slow pumps of Kakashi’s hand. He strained against Kakashi as the jonin pressed their lips together in a succession of sloppy kisses. “N-not that you aren’t effective.”

“I could get used to morning excursions of this nature.”

“Morning sex is overrated.”

“That’s not to suggest it isn’t enjoyable.”

Iruka turned over and, in one seamless and surprising display, pinned Kakashi down against the bed. The look in his eyes Kakashi could only surmise as mischief under a thin layer of weariness, the quirk of his lips reminiscent of the challenging remarks and biting comebacks Iruka usually unleashed whenever the jonin had him riled up good and proper. It had always been this way except, now, Iruka’s legs held Kakashi’s body down in a tight straddle, keeping him in place as he started to steadily rock against him.

“I believe I might have miscalculated,” Kakashi said, in a measured tone, unable to look away from the obscene way in which Iruka’s hips rolled into him, rubbing their protruding bulges against each other with effective precision. “Iruka…” Kakashi kept his tone neutral, breathing deeply, his mind and body gearing up for the possibility of much desired release. Iruka kept his movements agonizingly slow but increasingly poignant, smiling through a shuddered moan.

“Yes?” Iruka hummed, his eyes closing and opening slowly, the word escaping his lips in sync with the press of his body. Kakashi’s hands latched onto Iruka’s waist, out of instinct or just pure need, dragging down his hips and taking a firm grasp of the chunin’s rear, squeezing it as punishingly as Iruka’s thighs squeezed against him.

“I thought morning sex was overrated?”

“That’s not to suggest it isn’t enjoyable, isn’t it?”

Kakashi’s head reeled back, Iruka’s movements ceaselessly devastating, eventually raising his head to defy Iruka’s ministrations with a challenging stare of his own, kneading and spreading the impeccable ass in his hands until the smile on Iruka’s face gave way to distress.

“Kakashi…”

“My, my, sensei… You’re far more amicable this morning. I would have thought interrogating me on how I snuck into your apartment and wound up in your bed would have been your first priority.”

“We both know that line of questioning would be unnecessary because the answer is obvious,” Iruka sucked out, breathlessly.

Of course, Kakashi thought, masking a low moan of his own with a trembling sigh. How often had he entered Iruka’s apartment without conventional invitation, opting to use a window even when locked? This was nothing new, ergo the lack of concern from Iruka. If anything, the smile indicative of Kakashi’s undoing returned on Iruka’s face and with a vengeance. The jonin did everything in his power to remain powerless, to not turn the tables and pin Iruka against the bed instead.

“I’m actually surprised myself, Hokage-sama.” Kakashi groaned, the breathy use of his official title sounding highly inappropriate, coming from Iruka’s wet and reddened mouth and causing his aching member to twitch with excitement. “Given how you must know everything, no matter how much it’s none of your business, the fact that you aren’t asking inane questions about Naruto’s visit is a rare but not unwelcomed change.”

“Why would I? Naruto didn’t kiss you, too, did he?”

Iruka froze at this, as Kakashi knew he would, the cruel pleasure of their lengths rubbing together in a gradual build of throbbing pressure coming to an abrupt halt. Kakashi glanced down at the indecent wet spot on the front of Iruka’s pants and mentally cursed himself for being…him.

“Iruka, I…” Iruka closed his eyes and shook his head, silencing the jonin by placing an index finger against his rarely-exposed lips. Despite this, the halting of their movements, the chunin bent over and enveloped Kakashi’s lips with the gentle press of his own. Kakashi took what he could get, clawing a hand up the scar tissue on Iruka’s back to move him closer, trying to deepen tender kisses into passionate ones. “You’re welcome to disregard that last comment,” Kakashi whispered, weary he might cause further damage, as Iruka dipped his head to press his lips against Kakashi’s ear.

“You really are a bastard,” Iruka whispered back before lifting off Kakashi and removing himself from bed altogether. Kakashi lay strangely petrified, though his emotionless expression did little to reveal this state of shock, as Iruka straightened out and towered over him with the tallness of a righteous man. “Time to get up,” the chunin all but barked at him, his hands snapping onto his waist. Kakashi could still feel the heat of Iruka’s skin burn against his fingertips, where they once held Iruka against him, the lingering sensation causing him to emit a pathetic whimper in response. Iruka huffed and rolled his eyes. “Honestly...”

“Were we not in the middle of something?”

“We’re now at the end of it,” the chunin shot back, moving towards his dresser, “courtesy of yours truly, of course.”

“I see you’re not fond of referential irony—”

“I thought I said no leaving clothes on the floor,” Iruka snapped, his eyes darting over the pile of Hokage’s robes and shinobi uniform Kakashi had disrobed himself of the previous night.

“Maa… Is it really that problematic?”

“It’s the principle,” Iruka said, with a straight face Kakashi had no choice but to take seriously. “If you can’t care enough to respect a simple rule, it makes it hard to believe you can respect me.”

“I do respect you,” Kakashi said, sitting up in Iruka’s bed, his mind struggling to comprehend how an argument had manifested so abruptly between them. “I just think this rule is mildly ridiculous.”

Iruka reached down, grabbed Kakashi’s navy-blue tank and mask, and threw it at his face. Kakashi caught it, with little effort, as his one-eyed gaze never wandered far from Iruka’s angered movements.

“Get dressed,” the chunin said, while rifling through his dresser drawers with an aggression his clothes didn’t deserve. “We have work, remember? You have a meeting this morning, with Uzumaki Naruto, no less…someone that, after years of your tutelage, can’t even illicit interest in his wellbeing or questions as to why he would appear at his former sensei’s place from the very man who helped shape him into the incredible shinobi he is today.”

“…We both know that line of questioning would be unnecessary, because the answer is obvious. Isn’t it?”

Iruka turned with neatly folded sets of clean uniforms in hand. One set was a more faded navy blue while the other was darker and lacked the signature turtleneck variant Iruka was so fond of wearing. The look on his face, a suppression of his natural urge to lash out with a fiery passion, Kakashi knew from experience would not bode well for him as the day went on, lying dormant within the chunin only to manifest in bouts of passive aggressiveness aimed squarely at the jonin.

“Here,” Iruka said, his tone indescribable, nearing Kakashi’s side of the bed. He dropped Kakashi’s set into his lap, one of the many uniforms Kakashi had been keeping at Iruka’s more than leaving behind, before immediately turning to leave. Kakashi reached out and caught Iruka’s hand in his, pulling him back towards him. Iruka remained unresponsive but allowed Kakashi to press the palm of his hand against his lips in a chaste kiss.

“Morning,” Kakashi said, as Iruka snatched his hand away.

“Morning,” Iruka replied, coldly, flinging open the bedroom door. “I call first in the bathroom.”

 

* * *

 

“You’re kidding.”

“I kid you not.”

“Then you’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Because you’re you.”

“Alright, boys, settle down,” Iruka intervened, all but stepping between Kakashi and Naruto as he moved from behind the Hokage’s desk.

“I am quite settled,” Kakashi said, like a petulant child. “It’s Naruto who can’t seem to grasp the fundamentally basic task I am asking of him.”

“You want me to act as steward to Konagakure,” Naruto stated, as though to a child, his need to show up the leader of the Fire forcing Iruka’s face into one hand in second-hand embarrassment. Sakura, Sai, and Yamato, likewise, flanked behind Naruto in varying states of doubt and discomfort and had done so since entering the office, their expressions only changing to that of surprise when informed of Naruto’s promotion and the upcoming Kage Summit. “You could have picked anyone else and you expect me to believe you would pick me?”

“There will be provisos, I guarantee you,” Kakashi continued, awarding Naruto’s outburst a blank stare. “I’ve already enlisted Nara Shikamaru to act as senior advisor, under your temporary status, assisting you as you govern Konoha and the region it oversees. The rest of Team 7 will act in positions best suited to their strengths; Anko and Ibiki will fill you in on the particulars, when they aren’t otherwise preoccupied, and Aoba will handle your clearance levels so you may access necessary intelligence.”

“Kakashi-sama?”

“Yes, Sakura.”

The kunoichi took two steps forward, aligning herself with her blonde comrade, her expression not entirely sold from skepticism.

“How long will Naruto remain in his stewardship position?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I soon start a new fellowship at the hospital with Michizoe-sama. We’re researching ways to improve field treatment by accelerating the rate at which injuries can be healed.”

“Mm…Michizoe-sama.” Iruka recognized the name the moment Sakura said it but didn’t realize why until Kakashi repeated it with far less enthusiasm. The chunin noticed an immediate rigidness to Kakashi’s posture, much as it was for the entirety of his medical examination, visibly different from his usually relaxed body language. A silence filled the room, and Iruka wondered briefly if Kakashi would stoop so low as to take his own feelings toward his father’s former teammate out on Sakura. “He’s a seasoned medic-nin, the best at what he does. You’ll learn a great deal more by working alongside him. I see no reason why you can’t pursue your research while acting under Naruto’s administration.”

“Thank you, Kakashi-sama,” Sakura said, bowing, her gleeful smile a welcomed adornment to an otherwise unsmiling room.

“How long, though?” Sai asked, repeating the question. He seemed to have no motive other than sheer curiosity, the blank slate of his facial expression not at all a challenge to Kakashi’s ego. “Eventually, people are going to want to see the current Hokage returned to their rightful place.”

Iruka noticed Naruto make a disgruntled face at that.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Kakashi said, offering Naruto his signature, one-eyed smile, “but the parameters of my return are dictated by the events that take place at the summit, so, indefinitely.”

“What did the elders have to say about electing Naruto?” Yamato asked, a very reasonable question, but, coming from the jonin captain… Iruka clutched his clipboard, waiting with baited breath to hear the inevitable onslaught of insults or sly remarks Kakashi had on offer.

“The elders don’t have a say in this,” Kakashi said, ignoring the unbridled stare Iruka burned into the side of his face, “and neither do any of you.”  Kakashi’s expression remained passive but his eyes dared anyone, Yamato especially, to disagree. It really was a power play, Iruka realized, between Naruto and Kakashi and now Kakashi and Yamato, a game the jonin captain, thankfully, appeared an unwilling participant.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Yamato said, giving a respectfully low bow, his yielding to Kakashi’s insufferable behavior further infuriating Iruka.

“Ma… Anymore questions?” Kakashi asked, clasping his gloved hands together.

“Why me?”

 

_“He’s going to want to know why,” Iruka said, as they left his apartment, the hairs at the back of his head rising to the familiar sensation of an Anbu security detail following their every waking moment._

_“He should already know why,” Kakashi remarked, as unfazed as ever, giving Iruka a discreet squeeze of the hand before two Anbu members materialized to follow them._

“You hate me.”

“No I don’t.”

“Fine,” Naruto conceded, and Iruka exhaled in relief. “I hate you.”

“NARUTO,” Iruka chastised. At least the younger man had the good sense to turn red with shame, unlike the village leader sitting to his left that, on more than one occasion, Iruka considered not talking to for the rest of the day.

“You don’t hate me,” Kakashi said, as infuriatingly calm as Naruto was unabashed, as if this was nothing more than a minor disagreement. “You hate my decisions and, quite frankly, I’m not all that thrilled about your more reckless behavior as of late. However…” Kakashi paused, tilting his head in Iruka’s direction before addressing Naruto once more. “You aren’t just anyone. As I’ve been so insistently reminded, you’re the incredible Uzumaki Naruto. You love Konohagakure and I trust no one more than you to protect it in my stead. Believe what you will but I will not apologize for thinking you might actually make a great leader one day.”

The room fell silent. Naruto, in a rare loss for words, never took his eyes off Kakashi, as though expecting reality itself to change at any moment. Iruka, with his lungs in full arrest, noticed the slight glisten in the blonde’s bright blue eyes, the confusion, the hurt, and the refusal to give in to the security of Kakashi’s words.

“I expect we’ll be leaving in a few days time,” Kakashi continued, breaking the silence.

“What’s a few days time?” Yamato asked, taking the attention off Naruto. “It wouldn’t hurt to tell us that much, given everything you’ve shared so far.”

“You’re right,” Kakashi replied, eyeing Yamato challengingly. “We leave tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Sakura, Naruto, and Yamato all repeated, in unison, as alarmed as Iruka had expected them to be.

 

_“It might be in your best interest to come up with an explanation now…Kakashi-sama.”_

_“Again, with that title…you’re killing me, Iruka-sensei. Pray tell, why?”_

_“They were your team, they’re like family, and yet you treat them like common soldiers.”_

_“They are common soldiers. That I give them birthday presents doesn’t change that.”_

“Why are we only now being informed of this?” Sakura asked, uncharacteristically peeved at her former team leader. “We should have been prepped weeks in advance.”

“I assure you, Sakura, this was on a need-to-know basis.”

“Why?” Naruto jumped in, letting the topic of discussion distract him from his own feelings. “It’s a Kage Summit, not some secret mission. What could possibly be in jeopardy?”

“It’s not a what, is it?” Sai stepped forward, the clarity of truth in his eyes, as everyone looked to him for a possible answer. Iruka watched, out of the corner of his eyes, as Kakashi settled further into the Hokage’s chair, awaiting the younger man’s assessment. “You’ll have a procession, a team, from here to the Land of Water. They don’t even know everything, the people you’ve assigned to accompany you, but they will know tomorrow…because you can’t compromise what you don’t know.”

“You think there’s a spy?” Yamato asked Sai, his almond eyes growing wide. Iruka, likewise, couldn’t hide his surprise at the mention of a spy, looking to Kakashi with uncertainty. His jonin superior seemed strangely unmoved by the suggestion. “A spy in our ranks?”

“I don’t think so,” Sai said, pointing an index finger at Kakashi. “He does.”

“Kakashi…” Kakashi offered Iruka a brief glance, one of regret, one of…apology. The chunin’s mind raced, wondering why Kakashi would show him remorse. If Kakashi believed there was a spy among their numbers, Iruka imagined he’d be the last to know. Only higher ranking shinobi would need to know, like Ibiki-san or Aoba-san, or it would be above his pay grade, too intricate for his feeble, little, Academy instructor mind to fathom, to protect him, keep him safe… Whatever the justification, there would be one, and Kakashi would never feel sorry for it.

Except Iruka knew regret when he saw it.

“The attacks aren’t isolated incidents, nor was it without focus. There are a few details that, even if you guessed,” Kakashi looked to Sai, “I could not, in good consciousness, confirm.”

“What can you confirm, then?”

Kakashi considered Naruto, his outburst, before answering.

“A lot,” the jonin gloated, “but I’d rather not burden you all with more than the celebratory news we’ve already discussed.” Anguish settled over Team 7 in the form of a dark cloud, their eyes spiraling with frustration and exhaustion and all those other turbulent emotions often felt by those confronted with the sheer human amazement that was Hatake Kakashi. “Aoba-san will elaborate on a need-to-know basis.”

“What’s the catch?” Naruto asked. “There’s a catch, right?”

“I said there would be proviso—” Kakashi stopped himself. “Yes,” he started again, glancing Iruka’s way once more. Iruka wondered why Kakashi offered him his hesitation before looking back to Naruto and pronouncing, “You must maintain restrictions on Amegakure, where the village is concerned.”

“We came back from our mission there and proved Amegakure had nothing to do with what happened.”

“Everyone in this room knows that but, in the village’s current climate, our civilian population will find it a difficult truth to swallow. In my absence, your job will be to maintain order and keep everyone safe, especially from themselves.”

“Right, okay,” Naruto said, nodding his head, determination in his eyes. “What else?”

“You must also maintain border restrictions on Kirigakure, as well.”

“WHAT?” Team 7 shrieked.

They and Iruka gawked at Kakashi, taken aback by the order. Iruka couldn’t stop staring at Kakashi, now, unblinking and gaping at the mouth. Not that Kakashi had ever made an effort to keep him in the loop, often going out of his way to ensure the opposite, but Iruka couldn’t deny his confusion and a strange feeling of treachery he couldn’t quite explain.

“Kakashi,” Yamato began, dropping all formality, “since when is there a border restriction on Kirigakure? They’re allies to the Land of Fire—they’re the ones sponsoring the Kage Summit, opening their lands to us.”

“That only suggests they hold no concerns, on their end, not that they aren’t of concern to us. I do have my reasons, and no,” Kakashi paused, eyeing everyone in the room, “they are not up for questioning.”

The jonin leader sighed, rubbed at his eyes, and Iruka felt the tiniest twinge of compassion pull at his heartstrings. Not that Kakashi was all that deserving of sympathy, but it was clear the other man not only wanted little to do with these kinds of affairs but that it was especially unwanted when dealing with Team 7. Iruka couldn’t care less what Kakashi said to the contrary—having to address his former team in this manner got to him. Kakashi looked squarely at Naruto, searching his former subordinate’s face for obedience.

“Will you enforce this requirement?”

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Naruto conceded, less bitingly, less belligerent, his demeanor slowly changing from combatant to calm. “Anything else?”

“One last thing,” Kakashi said, and Iruka felt his own annoyance toward him rise in the face of his overly-dramatic drawing out of the meeting. If he wasn’t absolutely certain of Kakashi’s hatred for protocol and completing his duties as Hokage, he would think the other man enjoyed keeping them all in suspense. Naruto hung onto Kakashi’s every word, still, ever the loyal subordinate. “Under no circumstance are you allowed to visit the convicted felon and prisoner, Uchiha Sasuke, while acting as leader of Konohagakure.”

The room changed.

Iruka’s heart sunk, his own surprise abandoned, watching shock foster into emotional agony as Naruto processed Kakashi’s decree. The rest of Team 7 faltered, Sakura especially, the pink-haired kunoichi looking to her blond teammate with incredulity in her ocean-green eyes.

“Naruto…?”

“Fine,” Naruto said, abruptly, seething. It hurt him, Iruka knew, but his resolve was strong—it would have to be, to perform the task Kakashi had demanded of him. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Kakashi unclasped his hands, holding one out before Iruka, and the chunin could only look back at him hatefully. Iruka reached over the desk, snatched the scroll sitting on its surface, and plopped it in the jonin’s gloved hand. “I need you to sign your agreement and for the rest of Team 7 to sign as witnesses.”

Naruto approached the Hokage’s desk with slow, reluctant, steps. He picked up a pen from the desk, turned the scroll to face him, and signed off without even reading the fine print.

Kakashi waited for him to look back at him, to look him in the eye, but Naruto seemed to refuse. He looked to Iruka, however, and Iruka thought he must have appeared as he felt, sullen and affronted, because Naruto offered him a sad smile.

“Afraid I might destroy the village, Iruka-sensei?”

“I have nothing but faith in your ability to lead, Naruto. You know that.”

“Who’s next?” Kakashi quipped, looking to the rest of Team 7. Naruto moved to the side, standing beside Iruka, as Sakura approached to sign. She, too, avoided eye contact with Kakashi, Iruka reasoned due more out of bewilderment than anger. She signed, followed quickly thereafter by Sai, and then Yamato, who actually took the time to read the agreement before signing his name.

Iruka watched Naruto with worry, out of the corner of his eyes, the compulsion to want to protect him ever present, still, even as he accepted an inability to do so.

“Thank you, Team 7, for your cooperation. You’ll be summoned again tomorrow morning. Until then, you’re dismissed.”

“Kakashi-sama.”

“Yes, Yamato?”

“Request to speak with Iruka-sensei, in private.”

“Request denied.” Kakashi rolled up the scroll, looking quite bored. “Now leave.”

Yamato looked to Iruka and, blushing, the chunin offered him an apologetic look on Kakashi’s behalf.

“We’ll talk, later,” Iruka assured, hoping to convey as much with a single look. “Is that alright?” Nothing like the clueless and emotionally stunted tyrant sitting beside him, Yamato offered his own smile and a small nod.

“Sure,” he said.

“Is that so?” Kakashi bit in, staring intently at Yamato.

“I don’t believe there’s anything or anyone stopping us from doing so, so yes.” Iruka crossed his arms, staring Kakashi down with whatever fearful look of wrath he believed might discourage the jonin from arguing any further. Kakashi glanced his way, clearly having felt the chunin’s unrelenting glare, and immediately faltered in his instigation, just enough for Iruka to notice. “Will that be a problem, Kakashi-sama?”

“No,” Kakashi agreed, turning to look straight ahead. “There’s nothing stopping you.”

“Kakashi-sama,” Yamato said, bowing. Sai and Sakura followed suit, bowing too, before leaving. Yamato winked at Iruka, as he held the door open for them, the captain’s boldness causing the chunin’s ire to recede into another flustered blush. Memories of yesterday flooded back, of Yamato, sitting with the man, enjoying his company, being kissed by him…

“You’re still here, Naruto,” Kakashi said, the harshness of his tone snapping Iruka out of his reverie. Yamato was gone, no longer there to pull Iruka’s mind in every which direction as he tried desperately not to ruminate on the other day, tried not to worry over what he could possibly say in response to anything the other man had to say. Naruto stood beside him in a strange stupor, staring into nothing, a fact Iruka gave his full and undivided attention. “Dismissed means you can leave, or have you forgotten?”

“Actually…” Iruka turned to Naruto, blocking Kakashi from view. He smiled in the face of his former student’s unblinking stare. “I was going to visit the orphanage and wondered if you might join me. Naruto?”

Naruto nodded his head, dumbly, unable or unwilling to vocalize a response.

“Good,” Iruka beamed.

“The orphanage?” Kakashi disguised his disgruntlement poorly, Iruka rewarding his efforts with a pleasant, almost, ominous smile. “We have work, Iruka-sensei, as you might recall.”

“I’m aware,” Iruka said, continuing to smile aggressively, “but it’s nothing that can’t be picked up after a brief break.”

“Iruka-sensei—”

“KAKASHI-SAMA.”

Kakashi went still, giving a leer equal to Iruka’s unrelenting stance, as the two faced off in an unspoken contest of will. Iruka refused to back down, not after their meeting with Team 7, Kakashi’s ability to say and do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted ending the moment he showed his hand…when he whimpered that morning. Iruka stayed red in the face, even as he maintained his most stalwart of sensei poses, because he knew it was unfounded to think Kakashi would let any desire for Iruka get in the way of keeping their personal and professional lives separate, and yet…

“Fine.” Iruka refrained from showing his surprise, the way his heart skipped a beat, as Kakashi’s shoulders slouched in defeat. The power he could wield, they realized instantaneously but separately, Kakashi’s trying, one-eyed smile masking panic and alarm that his chunin lover couldn’t see. “I probably won’t be here, when you get back.”

“I’m sure you won’t be, Kakashi-sama.” Iruka took Naruto by the shoulder, shaking him gently. “Shall we?” Naruto nodded, again, allowing Iruka to take the lead. The chunin picked up his clipboard and handed it directly to the Hokage, giving him a short bow, before ushering Naruto out of the office.

“…Have fun,” Kakashi said to the closing doors of his office.

 

* * *

 

“What a lovely day, isn’t it?” Iruka stretched his arms and looked towards the sky, the smile on his face a genuine expression of relief. Removing himself and Naruto from Kakashi’s presence was tantamount to good health. Naruto remained unresponsive, but the stiffness in his shoulders seemed to give way once they were out in the open. Iruka watched him, carefully, as the two of them walked down from the department buildings and onto the village’s main road. “Naruto?”

“Yeah…sure.”

“It wasn’t the most delicate of escapes, I know, but I figured you weren’t going to walk yourself out of that office…not with how you are.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know you are, Naruto,” Iruka said, hesitant to keep smiling. “You did great back there, you know. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Iruka,” Naruto said, attempting to smile, but it quickly fell away. Iruka appreciated his effort to be cheerful even though he had every right not to be. They walked in silence, reaching a smaller walkway that lead to a cluster of business establishments and apartment buildings. “How long did you know? About him picking me, I mean?” At long last, Naruto spoke.

“About the, uh, position?” Iruka asked back, careful not to mention anything too specific. He could already see it now, the Anbu that would swarm down to silence him at any mention of the summit or the Hokage’s plans. Iruka considered the question again, before answering. “Since a few nights ago. A part of me wonders why, though…guess he thought it would make me feel better, knowing he was prepared to call on you for something of this importance.”

“Right.” Iruka saw Naruto’s mind going a mile a minute, as he stared at the ground, his brilliant blue eyes dimming with thoughts. “It is a big responsibility, isn’t it? Protecting Konoha’s interests while the Hokage’s away? That’s pretty amazing, actually.” The blonde’s eyes lit up again, to Iruka’s delight. “If I do a good job, and the villagers accept me, I’m guaranteed to be the next Hokage.”

“You’ll do a great job,” Iruka insisted.

“If I fail, though, no one will ever take me seriously again. Konoha will still hate me and I’ll never become Hokage. Does he want me to fail?”

“Of course not, not ever, why would you think something like that?”

 “What else am I suppose to think?”

“His methods are questionable, I’ll admit,” Iruka said, fighting back another wave of anger, thinking back to the hurt he saw in Naruto at the hands of Kakashi. Iruka’s ears still burned, at the mention of Uchiha Sasuke, the outrage he felt over the conditions of Naruto’s instatement having been less of a priority until now. The chunin could wonder how he would dare but knew very well why Kakashi would make such a demand of Naruto. Aligning himself with the likes of Sasuke, a traitor who once sought to destroy the Leaf, would forever be Naruto’s undoing. A small part of Iruka, the part of him that wanted what was best for Naruto, couldn’t help but agree with the logic of Kakashi’s despicable scheme. “You have to believe that he only wants what’s best for you and your future.”

“There’s no Sasuke in my future.” Naruto stopped, facing Iruka, looking to him with a familiar desperation in his eyes. “Is there?”

“I don’t know,” Iruka answered, placing a comforting hand on Naruto’s shoulder, “but neither does the Hokage-sama. No one can dictate your future but you, Naruto. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay.”

“Come on,” Iruka smiled, warmly, gesturing for Naruto to follow him. “This way.”

Iruka didn’t think Naruto would forget where the orphanage was, nevertheless, he led the way. He’d visited with Naruto, on numerous occasions, but recalled those times in the boy’s youth when his various run-ins with authority had landed him there. The villagers that had taken issue with his antics believed he belonged to the Konoha Orphanage and would drag him back there, seeking reprimand. Even Iruka thought this to be true, when he knew little more about him then that he blamed Naruto for the death of his parents, knowing differently after learning to see the boy and not just the beast inside him.

It was Kakashi who had first helped him see Naruto, Iruka remembered fondly.

They walked off the beaten path and into an open market square that was seeing more traffic than usual. Shop owners hustled the streets with their wears as crowds of people took to their businesses with open arms. The sight was refreshing and the people harmonious, despite the heavy commotion. Iruka looked on, marveling at Konoha’s ability to endure the uneasiness of change. The orphanage stood at the end of the square, where foot traffic dwindled and, ideally, children could play safely.

“It’ll be nice to see everyone,” Iruka said, as they moved with the crowds. “It’s been a while since I’ve paid a proper visit.”

“What’s stopped you?”

“Work,” Iruka replied, staring at the orphanage. “The refugee situation has caused more back and forth within the administration. There’s a lot of paperwork to be done, communications, protocol...”

“What about the Academy?”

Iruka gawked at Naruto, slightly dumbfounded.

“Oh,” he stammered, shaking his head. “I thought I told you. I haven’t worked as an instructor in weeks. Hokage-sama felt I needed a hiatus from teaching to better carry out my administrative duties.”

“You still work the missions room, though, right?”

“Yes, I still do that.”

“Does he usually tell you where you can go and what you can do?”

“No.” Iruka waved the idea away. “He’s not around to tell me a thing. He’s dramatic, as I’m sure you know, simply likes having an audience. The reality is he really doesn’t like to do the work. If the Hokage-sama can pawn his lesser priorities off on me, he doesn’t hesitate.”

“Why do you call him Hokage-sama all the time?”

“It’s his title. There’s nothing wrong with calling him by his official title.”

“Why?”

“It’s more…professional, I guess.”

“No.” Naruto shook his head, furiously, more animated than ever as of late. “Why are you with him?”

Iruka froze, his face flushing red at the distasteful stare on Naruto’s face.

The sight caused Iruka’s heart to plummet.

“W-with him?” Iruka’s thinking processes began shutting down as he looked every which way for something, anything, to save him from the inevitable conversation. Did Natuto even mean it that way, he wondered, as beads of sweat troubled his brow. “I, what do you, I don’t know wh—”

“I know what I saw, Iruka-sensei,” Naruto said, saving Iruka from devolving into a sputtering, nervous wreck. The question was rhetorical, Iruka realized, as the look of distaste he thought he saw morphed into confusion. “I can be stupid sometimes but I’m not that stupid.”

“You’re not stupid at all,” Iruka said, sternly, exhaling a deep sigh. “I just don’t think I can answer that question.”

“Iruka-sensei!”

A group of children between the ages of three and six caught Iruka and Naruto’s attention, rushing out of the orphanage to greet them. Iruka bent down on one knee and smiled, with open arms, catching the group in a giant hug.

“Iruka’s here!”

“We missed you, Iruka!”

“Let’s play!”

“My little friends!” Iruka greeted, reciprocating their embraces with tight squeezes, the sudden presence of tiny bodies full of joy and excitement being just the distraction he needed from a day brimming with detestable drama.

“Yuna-chan,” Naruto greeted, waving at a young woman with a baby bundled under one arm. She stood at the open door, wearing a tattered blue dress and an apron, with her strawberry hair pinned up in a simple bun. She looked no different than the other children, all plain in their squalor, wearing clothes the smallest amount of money could afford alongside sandals with thinning soles.

“Hello, Naruto-kun,” she greeted back, smiling cheerfully, before returning her attention to Iruka. “Iruka-sensei. It’s been some time, hasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Iruka agreed, tickling his toddler ambushers into gigging fits. “I’m here to make up for it.”

The children fled, laughing and screaming, making Yuna-chan dodge them as they raced back into the orphanage.

“No running!” Yuna-chan hollered, her reprimand falling on deaf ears. “Safety first, remember?!”

“Looks like your plate’s pretty full, huh?” Naruto grinned, rubbing his neck nervously. Iruka got back on his feet and, along with Naruto, watched other kids run past the door as they played throughout the aging orphanage home.

“You have no idea,” Yuna-chan sighed, pouting. “Come in, please.”

The building had changed, to Iruka’s dismay. There were more cracks, more dirt, more children than ever before, and parts of the main room had been partitioned off in a clear attempt to make more space for them to sleep in, with cots separated by the flimsiest of white curtains. More kids came down from the second floor to greet Naruto and Iruka, some the chunin recognized and some he didn’t. Taking in the nearby villages had also brought in their own waves of parentless children, abandoned or otherwise.

“We’ve adjusted to the new policies as best we can,” Yuna-chan explained, handing Iruka the baby in her arms. Iruka quickly adjusted his weight to better hold the infant, their bright-eyed stare and small, spittle-riddled, toothless grin drawing a smile from the instantly smitten chunin. “Meet Susumu, a recent arrival to the orphanage.”

“Hi, Susumu,” Iruka cooed, pressing a finger against Susumu’s button nose. Susumu giggled, but then Naruto appeared, mesmerizing the baby boy with his blond hair, bright blue eyes, and whiskers. Almost unsure of the act, Naruto reached out for Susumu’s hand, quickly getting his fingers clenched in the baby’s unnaturally tight grip. “You’re doing well, taking care of them.”

“Thanks,” Yuna-chan said, bowing her appreciation. “As long as they’re fed and healthy, I know, everything else doesn’t matter. It’d be nice to have more resources, though. The children remain in high spirits, for the most part, but even this is an improvement for a lot of them.”

“I see.” Iruka frowned, continuing to survey the room, but a fidgety Susumu returned his smile. “Where’s Jaakumi-san?”

“Out on one of her shopping sprees.”

“Mm.”

Yuna-chan flattened down her apron, adopting a trying smile.

“Iruka-sensei, do you mind watching Susumu for a while? I like to prepare lunch before anyone even mentions anything about being hungry. It’ll be this whole thing where one of the children will scream bloody murder for food and then everyone will scream bloody murder for food. I don’t think I’m in the right mind to deal with that kind of foolishness today.”

“Of course.”

“Great!” Yuna-chan hurried toward a small hallway and disappeared. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need anything!”

“Thank you, Yuna-chan!” Naruto called out, following Iruka as he carried Susumu over to a small, squat couch up against the main room’s wall. Naruto plopped down beside them, a revulsion toward the orphanage’s current state of disarray straining his face. “Talk about a horror show.”

“I don’t know if you remember but, when you and Yuna were kids, it was much like this. The Jaakumi estate still owns the property and do as little as possible to keep it maintained. I voiced grievance to both Hiruzen-sama and Tsunade-sama and, both times, was told that any action concerning the Jaakumi had to be dealt by the daimyo.” Iruka adjusted Susumu in his arms, unconsciously rubbing his back in soothing strokes.

“What about Kakashi?”

“Eh?”

“Ask him to speak with Lord Shijimi.”

“I think I will,” Iruka said, watching Susumu wiggle with glee, surprised that he hadn’t thought to ask Kakashi himself.

Naruto began to watch him now, study him, and the chunin blushed at the inspection. Naruto’s silence, he could handle, but the blonde’s brazen staring put him on edge. “You have questions.”

“I have so many questions.”

“Okay,” Iruka nodded his approval, “but I reserve the right to dismiss anything I fconsider inappropriate.”

“How long?” Naruto asked first, impatience overflowing from him.

Iruka gazed at Susumu, considering the question, having to wonder it himself. He wasn’t naïve enough to think it had all happened so suddenly, accepting his role in the fact that he and Kakashi had been circling the reality of a relationship for some time. It was Iruka’s stubborn insistence that nothing more would ever happen between them that had blinded him from the possibility that Kakashi might share his feelings.

“How long have you been together, I mean?”

“It feels like forever,” Iruka admitted. “I guess the day of the attack. He was hurt. I took care of him.” And he took care of me, Iruka thought, as visions of the night in question caused a rising heat in his face.

“Ugh,” Naruto whined, his face growing a healthy beet red itself. “There are children here, Iruka-sensei—have some shame!”

“You know what I mean,” Iruka scoffed, giving Naruto a light jab in his side, at peace with his own hypocrisy knowing that that’s exactly where his mind had gone. Naruto rubbed at his eyes, as though trying to rid himself of an image, before dragging his hands down his neck in agony. Iruka watched him, carefully, worryingly. “Does it bother you?”

“You’re like my dad—of course, it bothers me!” Naruto grumbled, brushing fingertips over the wispy strands of hair atop Susumu’s head. “You can do so much better than that idiot.”

That sinking feeling in Iruka’s heart suddenly vanished. The chunin looked to his former student, shocked but relieved, unable to withhold a loving smile even if he’d wanted to.

Susumu sputtered gleefully in his arms.

“Seriously, though, why him?”

“I ask myself that all the time.”

“He’s terrible to you.”

Even Naruto notices, Iruka thought, sulking.

“He can be,” Iruka began, his mind doing the usual bend backwards to try and reason with Kakashi’s often cruel behavior. “He’s sometimes oblivious to the feelings of others, and that can be hurtful, but the shinobi life is harsh. It’s easier to shut down to protect one’s self from the real pain, in here,” he finished, touching above his heart.

“You never shut down, Iruka-sensei.”

“We’re two very different people, Naruto.”

“Then why?”

“I already told you, I can’t give you a reason why,” Iruka said, and Susumu yawned. The baby’s eyes began to dip and his mouth went lax, as he strained to keep staring back at Iruka. “It makes sense when we’re alone, in our own little world.”

“If you say so…”

“It can be difficult,” Iruka started, considering his words carefully, “knowing that, in your heart, a person is good but their actions seem unjustifiable at times. That, even with the facts stacked against them and the worst of them coming to light, you still want them in your life.”

“Yeah…” Naruto’s head dipped, his thoughts spiraling into a familiar state of reflection. It was Iruka that had put him back there, Iruka realized too late, knowing exactly what or, rather, who it was that had come to Naruto’s mind

“Here,” Iruka said, raising Susumu. “Care to hold him?”

“Sure.” Naruto was careful, more so than he needed to be, taking Susumu from Iruka’s arms. The younger man was no stranger to holding babies, having done so before while at the orphanage, but he seemed so certain of their fragility that he never truly looked comfortable. “He’s so tiny,” he said, smiling nervously. Iruka watched Naruto take to little Susumu, bending low so Susumu could claw at his whisker marks. Susumu made the faintest whimpers of wonder, adding to the melody of clashing pots and pans from the kitchen, the pounding of footsteps from the children playing upstairs, and the few distant bouts of laughter from the children playing behind the orphanage, appearing now and then before a sliding screen door.

“I’m sorry about how the meeting went, Naruto.” Iruka said, watching him cuddle Susumu. “I didn’t know he was going to ask that of you. I should have known there’d be a catch. There really always is, with him.”

“I’m used to it,” Naruto said, leaning back. “When he led Team 7, training under him… He was always one step ahead, pulling the strings, and it was only with Sakura’s help that I ever get the drop on him. I hated it.”

“No you didn’t,” Iruka said, whimsically. “You’ve always loved a challenge.” Naruto shrugged, brooding, because he knew his former sensei to be correct. “But this is him simply being cruel. I’ll talk to him—get him to reconsider.”

“No…don’t.” Naruto held Susumu’s hands in his, rubbing gently. “I love a challenge, right? If he says this is what I have to do to take on the position, then I’ll do it. If you go to him now, he’ll just think I asked you to fight my battle for me. Then what will he think?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Naruto sniffed, watching baby Susumu. “I’m sure.”

“Okay,” Iruka said, running a comforting hand across Naruto’s back. “From what I’ve been briefed, it won’t be long. It’s a week affair, at the most, maybe longer, depending on how the discussions go…” Iruka listened as the front door opened and slammed shut. “I’m excited for you, Naruto.”

“I’m excited for me, too,” Naruto said, dumbfounded. “I just hope I don’t royally screw this up.”

“You won’t,” Iruka reassured Naruto, his eyes watching the hallway, waiting for someone to appear. He expected to eventually see a tall woman with sharp cheekbones and pitch-black hair pulled back into a severe bun, wearing bright colors lined with fur and high heels as pointed as the expression on her face.

In marched a small little boy with silver-grey hair and a dingy disposition, instead, dragging a large sack of who knew what across the floor.

“I have faith in you.”

The little boy turned, eyes growing wide, looking very much like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Oh, crap.”

“Take!” Iruka jumped to his feet, his hands already gripping his waist in fury. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Take sneered, miserably. “What are you doing here?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Iruka barked. “Why aren’t you at school?”

“Why aren’t you at school?” Take shot back, already prepared to pick a fight, but Iruka wasn’t having it. His initial anger gave way until all that remained was frustration at the boy trying to sneak his way up the staircase. “Did you forget all about us, Iruka-sensei?”

“You know I didn’t,” Iruka murmured, though heatedly. “I’ve stopped by now and then but ca never stay long. Suzume-sensei tells me you’re all on your best behavior—YOU CAN’T BE ON YOUR BEST BEHAVIOR IF YOU’RE NOT AT SCHOOL, TAKE,” Iruka snapped, failing miserably at not being angry. Take had the good sense to cower, hiding behind the large bag in his hand.

Susumu gave a small whine and Iruka looked to Naruto, apologetically, before catching Take in the act of trying to disappear further up the stairs.

“Do I even want to know what’s in the bag?”

“No,” Take said.

“You might want to check your wallet, Iruka-sensei,” Naruto said, narrowing his eyes on Take, as he rocked Susumu back to tranquility. “That kid will rob you blind and give no second thought to whether or not you can pay your ramen tab.”

“Hey, I gave you back your little frog purse last time. What more do you want from me?”

“It’s not a purse!” Naruto hissed, straining to keep his voice low. “It’s a coin pouch, you thief.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Iruka held his head in his hands, doing his best not to laugh out loud…or cry in horror. He must have seemed insane, to Naruto and Take, though he suspected they were used to his extreme mood swings by now. “You two have had run-ins, of course! I can’t believe this hasn’t happened before!” Iruka chuckled his way back onto the couch, the looks of nervousness coming from Naruto and Take only making him swell more with suppressed laughter. “Take, come here.”

Take approached, cautiously, and with good reason, because Iruka had a habit of luring misbehaving children into a false sense of security before unleashing his unique brand of retribution. Take stood before them, clutching onto what was surely a bag of ill-gotten gains that he most likely obtained for the sole purpose of sharing them with the other children. Iruka scooted to the edge of the couch and patted the center for Take to take a seat.

“Take,” he began, smiling towards Naruto, “this is Naruto.”

“Yeah,” Take nodded, “I know. He captured all those people who attacked the village. Also, you talk about him a lot.” Iruka blushed, rubbing the nape of his neck in embarrassment. Take turned to Naruto with a distrustful stare. “I didn’t know it was you, at first. If I’d known you were a friend of Iruka-sensei’s, I wouldn’t have stolen from you.”

“What about when you did know? You picked my pocket _yesterday_!”

“It’s not my fault you’re an easy target.”

“Take.” Take huffed, like the bad-tempered child he was, but Iruka smiled knowing his “Sensei Voice” would always work on him.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Naruto, avoiding eye contact, but Iruka could hear that the sentiment was true.

“Don’t worry about it,” Naruto said, beaming, but his beady-eyed stare spoke volumes to how little he actually believed in Take’s apology. Iruka rolled his eyes as Naruto clung to Susumu, as if Take might steal the baby right out from under him.

“Iruka-sensei…” Take swung his legs, nervously, looking to the floor beneath them. “When are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure,” Iruka said, looking from Take to Naruto. Take’s shoulders slumped even further at his answer. “We’re taking a trip, soon.” Take’s head shot up, intrigued, though he continued to glower, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We?”

“I, I mean,” Iruka gave Naruto a nervous look, correcting himself, “I leave tomorrow, alone. I can’t say when I’ll be back but, when I do return, I think things can go back to the way they were.”

“Great. Not only are you not coming back to teach, you’re leaving the village too?” Take appeared absolutely devastated and betrayed. Iruka remembered what it felt like, at that age, to feel betrayed by an adult. The fact that he couldn’t even go into detail made it even worse but, he imagined, this was how it had been for those adults in his childhood who struggled to make their behavior make sense to a child. “Why tell me now?”

“Well, I was planning to visit the Academy and tell you then,” Iruka offered Take a reprimanding stare, receiving a guilty shrug in return, “but since you’re here… I didn’t want to leave without you knowing that you can seek out Naruto, at any time, if you ever need anything.”

“He can?” Naruto asked, incredulously, his eyes darting back and forth between his former sensei and his current nemesis.

“I don’t see why not,” Iruka smiled, begging this of Naruto with the subtlest of pleas in his eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” Naruto said, smirking at Take. “If you need anything, I’ll be there.”

“Thanks,” Take said, his voice filled with doubt, the news of his sensei’s continued absence still pervading his already sour mood. He looked to Iruka, scowling still. “What about Pervy-sama?”

Naruto gave Take a confused look.

“Who?”

The front door opened and slammed shut once more, followed by many more footsteps and a considerable amount of rustling. Jaakumi-san emerged, flanked by two girls carrying her shopping bags for her, appearing just as Iruka believed she would. Her eyes didn’t bother to scan the room, spotting Iruka and company in an instantly hateful glare.

“Where’s Yuna?” she demanded, doing little to disguise her distaste. Take flinched, a subtle but learned reaction to Jaakumi-san, slowly sinking into the couch to hide behind the larger builds of Iruka and Naruto.

“She’s in the kitchen, preparing lunch,” Iruka said, sitting a bit taller, the look in his eyes stern but reserved. “Yuna-chan is very good at anticipating the needs of the children.” Iruka gestured to the half-a-dozen or so shopping bags in each girl’s hands. “Have you done the same, I wonder.”

“Yuna-chan!”

“Jaakumi-sama!” Yuna-chan rushed out from the kitchen, greeting the sight of the older woman with a low bow. “My apologies, Jaakumi-sama. We have guests.”

“I can see that, Yuna-chan,” Jaakumi-san sneered. “Iruka-sensei, would you be so kind as to state the purpose of you and your…” She eyed Naruto, up and down, with equal familiarity and equal hate. “Company?”

“We’re visiting,” Iruka answered, calmly, but his mutual stare of contempt stood out amid the pleasantry. “I wondered if things were going well. I can see the attacks brought on more children.”

“I’ve been doing just fine, thank you.”

“Clearly,” Iruka frowned, looking to the two young girls he didn’t recognize. “After all, you’ve bought the children clothes, yes? Toiletries? Supplies? Toys?”

“Iruka-sensei!” Jaakumi-san snapped, glaring at the chunin, the thick tension in the room stifling time itself. Yuna and Naruto watched, with baited breath, Take remained still and silent, and Susumu, clutched in Naruto’s more protective embrace, stirred from semi-slumber to eject a rattling cry. “It is not your place to question my priorities and it is no concern of yours what I provide for the children under my care. In fact,” Jaakumi-san gave a sinister smile, standing taller in her arrogance, “your opinion is, as always, of no concern to me. I bought nothing for the children. They get room and board and food, which is more than any street rat could ever want. I am not obligated to buy them things when I go out shopping.”

“The children are not to be treated like servants, either!” Iruka shot back, rising to his feet. “Furthermore, children of proper age should be in school and they’re not. It’s your job to see to it they receive proper schooling. If they’re shinobi, they require proper training.”

Jaakumi-san’s eyes instantly snapped onto Take, the little boy fidgeting to remain hidden by Iruka.

“Yuna handles the day-to-day while I contemplate whether or not to throw these brats out on the street, but you already know this…don’t you, Iruka-sensei?” Iruka baulked at the thinly-veiled threat, the same one she always used whenever Iruka dared to question her authority. Jaakumi-san jutted her chin out, directing the two girls carrying her bags to ascend the staircase. Iruka watched them, helplessly, doing his best to keep his outrage in check. “Yuna-chan.”

“Yes, Jaakumi-sama?”

“Take the baby and put it in a cot.”

“Yes, Jaakumi-sama.”

“This isn’t a petting zoo. Either adopt a child or remove yourselves from the premises.” Jaakumi-san turned to Yuna-chan, staring down the much younger woman. “I’ll be in my office.”

“Yes, Jaakumi-sama,” Yuna said, bowing again, only lifting her head to watch the other woman climb the staircase, the two girls carrying her purchases hurrying before her.

“See Iruka-sensei and his guest out.”

“Yes, Jaakumi-sama.” Another door, upstairs this time, quickly opened and slammed shut, alleviating some of the tension in the room. It wasn’t long before the children came stomping down the staircase, all shouting and giggling, filling the room with abandon. “I’m sorry,” Yuna-chan whispered, approaching Iruka and Naruto.

Naruto stood, handing Susumu over to Yuna-chan who quickly cradled the baby. Naruto smiled and gave Susumu a small wave goodbye.

“It’s alright, Yuna-chan,” Iruka said, his eyes torn from where they had watched Jaakumi-san disappear, taking her airs and her greed along with her. For his own piece of mind, he chose to smile fondly at the baby boy in her arms. “We’ll be back.”

Take rushed the center of the room, his bag of stolen goods in hand, and jumped on top of a low square table.

“I brought presents!” he shouted, at the top of his lungs, swinging the bag around his head.

“No you didn’t,” Naruto said, climbing over children to snatch the bag out of Take’s hands. “You stole presents. I mean, they’re not presents! They belong to other people.”

“Hey!” Take leapt at Naruto, clawing to get the bag back, but the blonde simply pushed the palm of his hand against the boy’s forehead to keep him at bay. “Give it back!”

“I plan to,” Naruto said, looking to Iruka. “I’ll see to it Take returns everything he took to their rightful owners.”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Iruka sighed, exhausted at the thought of doing it himself. He couldn’t help but stare in admiration of Naruto, thinking back to the younger man’s youth and how he used be every bit as troublemaking as Take. His former student had grown and matured to such an unfathomable degree and never once lost his loving, positive, fighting spirit.

Naruto, too, never shut down.

“Thank you, Naruto.”

“Don’t mention it, Iruka-sensei,” Naruto grinned, undisturbed by Take’s wild attempts to get at the bag in his hand.

“Guess I should get back to the office before the lunch rush.”

“I’m sorry you two have to cut your visit so short,” Yuna-chan lamented, readjusting Susumu against her waist.

“We didn’t cut our visit short, Yuna-chan,” Iruka frowned. “Jaakumi-san did. That woman is just so…” He fought to hold his tongue, to remain cordial and polite, but someone like Jaakumi-san made him want to scream a few choice words at them, expletives encouraged, until they changed their hateful ways. The chunin moved closer, urging Yuna-chan forward, and spoke in a low voice. “Things need to change around here, Yuna-chan, and I think I can help in a big way but I won’t do anything if you’re uncomfortable with the idea.”

“Iruka-sensei.” Yuna-chan shook her head, smiling up at him. “I wouldn’t mind any kind of intervention, at this point. Things are only getting worse, and there’s no one Jaakumi-sama answers to so nothing improves. If there’s anything you can do, I insist you help us.” Yuna-chan kissed Susumu’s soft head. “Things weren’t the best, when I was an orphan, but they were better than this.”

“I know,” Iruka agreed. “Thank you, Yuna-chan, for your hospitality.”

“I’ll see you out.”

 

 

Iruka and Naruto left the orphanage, upset but not surprised Jaakumi-san had kicked them out, with Take in tow, following them, staring angrily up at the bag swung over Naruto’s back.

“Well,” Naruto started, staring at the crowned square ahead of them. “That was an interesting visit.”

“I thought so, too,” Iruka said, a touch of anger and determination in his voice.

“It did take my mind off things,” Naruto admitted, “put things into perspective.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thanks for letting me tag along, Iruka-sensei.”

“Of course.” Iruka said, his tone softening, not wanting to jeopardize Naruto’s bettering mood with his own lingering indignation. “I think Yuna-chan would appreciate us visiting more often.”

“I think so, too.”

“Can I have my bag back, now?”

“No,” Naruto stated, firmly, turning on Take. The two went through another bout of keep-away, where Naruto held the bag too high for Take to get anywhere near but that didn’t stop the boy from trying. Iruka looked on, amused, their antics causing his foul mood to lose its grip on him. Watching the two take so naturally to what was clearly horseplay, neither of them trying very hard to end their back and forth, reminded him of his unruly students as they played, laughed, and schemed at the Academy. Iruka missed teaching, missed his students, and he would miss Take and Naruto. Other, more accomplished, shinobi might find the sentiment childish. Missions requiring long distances and days away from the village were common, but not for Iruka.

His duty had always been to serve the children of Konohagakure, first and foremost, so that they might become great shinobi…like Hiruzen-sama, the man whose faith in him had led Iruka to this moment.

“Hey! Watch it!”

Take had resorted to stepping on Naruto’s feet and kicking his shins to get him to drop the bag.

“This’ll be the last time I see you, for who knows how long, and you’re going to spend it misbehaving?”

Take stopped his assault on Naruto to wrap his arms around Iruka within the same blink of an eye. His embrace tightened to an inhuman degree, the sudden severity of it taking Iruka’s breath away, as Take buried his face against the chunin’s flak jacket.

“Take…?” The boy didn’t answer, simply squeezing harder, until Iruka, feeling the burn behind his eyes, wrapped his arms around Take’s shoulders and squeezed back. “It’s okay.”

“’ma mss ya, ‘rka-snse,” Take made out, against Iruka’s front. The chunin got down on one knee, bringing Take into an even tighter embrace.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he said, smiling up at Naruto. “I promise. I won’t be gone long.”

“You can’t promise that,” Take sniffled, over his shoulder, “because you don’t know how long you’ll be gone.”

“Huh,” Iruka said, chuckling. “I guess you’re right.”

“Smart kid,” Naruto said, begrudgingly.

“It’s Pervy-sama, isn’t it? He’s making you go?”

Naruto expressed another bout of bemusement, staring at Take. “Who’s Pervy-sama?”

“He means Kakashi,” Iruka said, gingerly, shaking his head.

“I hate him.”

“You don’t hate him,” Iruka insisted, pulling away, continuing to coax his student with gentle shoulder rubs.

“You hate him, too?”

“You don’t hate him, either,” Iruka chastised, glowering up at Naruto. “Why would either of you say that? I wouldn’t use that word unless I absolutely meant it.” Iruka rose to his feet, leading a more cooperative if not entirely agreeable Take to Naruto by the small of his back. “Please make sure he goes back to the Academy, afterwards.”

“Will do, Iruka-sensei,” Naruto said, resting a hand on the top of Take’s head of wild grey hair. Take swung his head around to remove the blonde from his person. “Come on,” Naruto said, starting them off towards the square’s street. “We’re going back to every person you stole from to apologize.”

“Why would I do that?” Take sneered, nonetheless, following Naruto’s lead.

“Well,” Naruto shrugged, “not doing that will upset Iruka, and we wouldn’t want that…would we?”

“No,” Iruka heard Take say, through gritted teeth.

“So…you have a problem with Kakashi, too, huh?”

“He’s terrible.”

“Tell me about it…”

Iruka’s face fell, his eyes twitched, and his ears burned, at the resulting exchange, but watching two of his favorite people walk away on decent terms made him unreasonably hopeful. He leapt away, returning to the office, praying all the while he hadn’t just facilitated the beginnings of an unholy alliance against their village leader.

Even if Kakashi deserved it.

 

* * *

 

 

TEN YEARS AGO

“I think we should make camp here,” Kakashi said, surveying the area. “…Wouldn’t want to trail in any dirt.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Jiraiya said, snapping closed the notebook in his hand. They were on an open stretch of land now, just off the road, where the makeshift crop fields stood not too far behind them. It wouldn’t be long before they arrived at the refugee camp, in all its secluded splendor, where it thrived on secrecy to better protect its inhabitants. “I’m sure it’s a nice, quiet, locale, and I wouldn’t want to ruin that.”

“You can’t indulge in a B&B Brothel that no longer exists.”

“Well, I can’t disagree with you there,” Jiraiya said, nodding earnestly, his shamelessness commendable, if he did say so himself. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to preserve their efforts to remain undetected.”

“Hiding in plain sight,” Kakashi murmured, standing atop a boulder. “It isn’t the most novel idea, but many have proved its effectiveness.” It’s what Jiraiya would have done, Kakashi too, an instinctual fact of survival being to want to blend in to one’s environment. Unfortunately, for their pesky stalkers, their ploy had not made them blend in to their surroundings.

Kakashi remained on high alert, despite his nonchalant demeanor, taking to higher points of elevation while pretending he wasn’t doing just that.

“Tell me again, Jiraiya-san, how the next book after this new one begins.”

“Again?” Jiraiya said, dropping his pack to the ground. “I haven’t changed anything from the last time I told you.”

“Recite it again, please. I insist.”

“Okay,” Jiraiya sighed, shaking his head. He’d always appreciated the boy’s strange affinity for his writing, would never discourage a fan’s interest, but Kakashi’s obsession with the Icha Icha series was borderline pathological. Jiraiya plopped down on the ground, crossing his legs, and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and basking in the warm glow of a dying sun. “Our hero, Hiro, finds himself on a quest to protect the village of the woman he desires. On his way there, he comes across an old woman who asks of him, “Would you like a pretty painting?” Hiro, puzzled, approaches the old woman. “A painting of what?” he asks her, but, “It’s a secret,” she replies. “Give me your health, and I’ll let you see it. Give me your life, and it’s yours.”

“A pretty painting,” Kakashi hummed, hopping down from the boulder to join Jiraiya at the center of the clearing. “You said a pretty painting. You didn’t say the painting was pretty, before.”

“I didn’t?” Jiraiya frowned, pulling camping supplies out of his pack. “Seems like a pretty important detail.”

“I agree,” Kakashi replied, pulling his own supplies from over his shoulders. “I admit, I’ve effectively distracted myself with the task of our journey, but now I’ve come to understand the meaning behind this encounter.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t think too deeply about it.”

“Blind sacrifice. The old woman is reality, harsh and unmarred by romanticism. The pretty painting is the woman he desires, whose affection is not his, but he’s willing to risk his life for an uncertainty.”

“Love is never certain.”

“Death is,” Kakashi concluded, setting up for the night. “Is she a mirage, the old woman?”

“The old woman’s a figment of his imagination, yes,” Jiraiya supplied, starting on a fire. “Remember, where the story left off, Hiro’s still suffering from the effects of a powerful aphrodisiac that gave him ample physical willingness but also caused hallucinogenic fits.”

“How could I forget? That ending was superb,” Kakashi reminisced, staring out towards the setting sun, the look of fondness he held for the story translating into the dramatic curve of his one exposed eye. “The old woman is his conscience, in the appearance of someone he would find unattractive, therefore, allowing him to remain objective. She is telling him what he already knows. It’s a fool’s errand to put his life on the line for a woman who may not reward him for his efforts.”

“Correct.” Jiraiya went on observing Kakashi, the younger man either oblivious or unconcerned by the former’s blatant staring. “Often, in one’s youth, I think a person can get caught up in the pursuits of others, knowing nothing of the consequences.”

“Mm…”

“If ever I came across a young man who’s, clearly, in over his head, standing at the frontlines for false promises, I might be inclined to spare his life.”

“Or, perhaps, even the youngest, most naïve of us, know a choice when we see one and act accordingly.” Kakashi pulled one last thing out of his bag, the first book Jiraiya ever wrote in the Icha Icha series, before settling down on the ground across from the infamous author.

The jonin looked westward once more, figuring out how much sunlight remained at his disposal, before staring back at the distant farmlands.

“It’s a shame, really.”

“What is?” Jiraiya asked.

“Maa… The crops are good, healthy stock, on land that isn’t even properly suited for cultivation. That takes some effort, some skill… They should have been farmers.”

 

* * *

 

True to his word, Kakashi was not there when Iruka returned.

The chunin had expected as much, didn’t anticipate another appearance from the jonin, actually looking forward to the isolation and dealing with the piles of paperwork and correspondences left teetering on the Hokage’s desk. With a heavy sigh and a dutiful disposition, he took his tentative place at the Hokage’s chair and did what was ordered of him, keeping in mind that, in some bizarre way, his unsupervised clearance to handle such tasks served as a reflection of Kakashi’s trust in him. For the remainder of the day, the usual onslaught of disgruntled visitors that marched in seeking audience came to abrupt halts, their blustering approaches forgotten, cautioned by the maniacal smile that refused to fall from Iruka’s lips.

 

 

“You look positively…insane.”

“I feel pretty good, actually.”

“That explains why you look like a crazy person,” Genma elaborated, teasing a senbon between the corners of his mouth.

“Should I not be happy?” Iruka asked, taking a seat beside the tokubetsu jonin. “Long time no see, by the way.”

“Great to be back,” Genma grumbled, sarcastically, regarding the practically empty missions room with sheer boredom. “I’ve been reassigned, again, back from a relocation team…to this.”

“It sounds like the relocation work is finally reaching its end.”

“You would know,” Genma said, leaning in closer. “Word through the village grapevine is you’re the one calling the shots in the high tower.”

“I’m not,” Iruka refuted, though he refused to look Genma in the eyes, opting instead to greet the next chunin to turn in their missions report with excessive smiling. “Thank you… I’m merely acting as a proxy.”

“Hence why I think you shoulda snapped ages ago.” Genma shook his head, snatching up a missions report from the hands of an equally unbothered shinobi. “Umino Iruka, the Hokage’s whipping boy… I can only imagine.”

I’m sure you could, Iruka thought wearily.

“This is coming from a friend, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Iruka muttered, going over the missions report with weathered eyes. “Your concern is duly noted.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Genma leaned back, troubling the wall behind him with the back of his chair, “because, come tomorrow, I’m being switched onto Raido’s surveillance rounds. They got him doing some top secret stuff he couldn’t even tell me about.”

Iruka thought it over for a moment before realizing that the top secret stuff Genma spoke of had to be the Kage Summit and that Raido was probably one of the shinobi assigned as Kakashi’s security detail. Iruka, of course, said none of this out loud, watching Genma give an expectant jonin the stink eye before eventually falling forward to take her missions report. Even if he was wrong, Iruka couldn’t risk divulging that information, though he knew it would personally affect the other man. Genma and Raido were very close, questionably so, to the point where even Iruka, who strove to stay out of the personal affairs of his fellow shinobi, did once wonder about them.

“Are you worried?”

“Hell no,” Genma scoffed, a bit too quickly. “I’m envious,” insisted, tossing the missions report into the jonin bin without reading it. “Whatever he’ll get up to has got to be more exciting than this.”

“Mm.”

 

 

Iruka arrived home at a respectable hour, for once, the meager turnout of shinobi bothering to hand in their mission reports on village construction, cleanup, and surveillance being the shameful reason he had to thank.

The days were getting longer and nightfall, shorter, offering enough light to seep through the gaps in the window blinds and flood the place with a clash of sky blue and streetlamp orange. Iruka held off on turning on the lights, just yet, being able to see clearly into his apartment. He hung up his flak jacket, removed his sandals, and tossed his keys onto the counter of the kitchenette, all the while wondering what he would do with himself for the rest of the night.

Then he saw it, the movement of a shadowy figure emerging from the hallway.

“Oh, come on,” Iruka whined, pitifully, backing away. It happened fast, and he expected nothing less, the instinct to fight nonexistent when he recognized the chakra signature of his would-be intruder. “Kakashi?”

Kakashi swooped forward, shoving Iruka back, his hands shooting out on both sides of Iruka’s head while using his lean body to pin the chunin against the front door, the look in his one-eyed stare absolutely predatory.

“Welcome home,” Kakashi whispered, dipping his head forward to brush his masked lips against the chunin’s cheek.

“You’ve got to stop sneaking around in the dark like that.”

“Does it put you off?”

“Not exactly,” Iruka exhaled, his breath growing heavy, and Kakashi pressed them closer together. Iruka’s eyes fluttered shut, partially due to exhaustion, the heated breath escaping from beneath the other man’s mask as relaxing as it was exhilarating. “It’d be nice to not have to wonder who you are, though, so that I don’t attack you.”

“As if you could ever take me by surprise.”

Iruka’s eyes snapped open, narrowing in on Kakashi, before the chunin grabbed the jonin by his uniform and shoved him up against the door. The jonin’s eye widened, unable to disguise his surprise fast enough for Iruka to miss, but was quick to happily settle into the forceful embrace.

“I stand corrected.”

They stared at each other, for what felt like an eternity, the distance between their bodies nonexistent.

“I was sleeping,” Kakashi murmured, as if that somehow explained his antisocial lurking in the dark. “You woke me.”

“I guess if one of us can get any sleep....”

“What if neither of us got any sleep?” Kakashi’s hands snaked their way around Iruka, pulling him impossibly closer, until Iruka could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing into him. The chunin couldn’t say he wasn’t equally excited, from the moment Kakashi had him pinned against the door, the way Kakashi inhaled him, trailed his face up and down the crook of his neck, making it all the more difficult for Iruka to push him away. “Mm?”

“We need to talk.”

“Maa… Is it possible to postpone any and all talk until later?” Kakashi again closed the gap between them, invading Iruka’s personal space once more, this time pulling Iruka’s hands into his with the entanglement of their fingers. Iruka didn’t resist, had no intention to, staring back at Kakashi’s obsessive stare with tired eyes.

“Aren’t you curious about what I want to talk about?”

“No,” Kakashi said, without hesitation, but there was no malice in his voice. “I think I can accurately deduce you’ll want to discuss the meeting with Team 7. It hasn’t escaped my mind you probably have a world of things to say in opposition but it’ll have no pending effect on the outcome of what happened.” Kakashi released one of Iruka’s hands, reaching up to untie the hitai-ate around Iruka’s forehead. “All that will come of it is an argument wherein I’ll inevitably and indisputably say something I’ll regret saying to you.”

Iruka’s forehead protector slipped off and into Kakashi’s hand, the jonin holding onto it as he took Iruka’s hand in his again.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

Iruka drew nearer, his eyes never leaving Kakashi’s open one, breathing into the jonin’s scent, his musk as provocative as the words coming out of his mouth.

“Iruka…”

“The orphanage,” Iruka began, slowly, watching Kakashi.

“What about the orphanage?”

“The Jaakumi clan owns the property rights. The contract they hold with the daimyo gives them full authority to run it however they see fit and have done so since its establishment. The current clan member overseeing the orphanage, however, is a nightmare.” Iruka paused, feeling his face burn with shame, worried over his choice of words. Kakashi seemed unfazed, as if everything Iruka had said so far had fallen on deaf ears, but Iruka sensed that wasn’t the case. The fear of overstepping the bounds of their personal and professional relationship caused him a moment of uncertainty, but a feeling in his heart compelled him to continue, the offer he made to Yuna-chan a promise he refused to break. “Jaakumi-san is worst than a nightmare, actually. She’s a danger to those children.”

“That’s quite a harsh claim, coming from you,” Kakashi said, squeezing Iruka’s hands, “a serious one at that.”

“I would never speak ill of anyone who didn’t deserve it,” Iruka pressed, growing flustered, “but Jaakumi Fusako deserves harsh words and much, much, more. Conditions are getting worse. The orphanage is overcrowded, with children from Konoha and neighboring villages, and Jaakumi-san’s at fault for refusing to ask for any outside assistance.” Iruka’s eyes wandered the room, what could be seen of it in the dimming light, as he tried to work out how to make his case. “I-I haven’t been visiting as often, so I can’t speak to how she handles the children personally, but it’s clear she’s not tending to their basic needs of clean clothes. The Jaakumi are a wealthy enough clan—they can afford the building’s upkeep and yet the place is going to shambles. Yuna-chan, a former orphan herself, is left to tend to the children without proper resources, and Jaakumi-san doesn’t spend a dime on those children let alone see to their schooling and future prospects.”

“You’re rambling, Iruka.”

“She’s negligible, Kakashi.”

Iruka had to stare up at Kakashi, the man being a few inches taller than him, but he did his best to stare him down with unwavering resolve. These conditions he’d witnessed firsthand, affecting those who could not think to defend themselves, he needed Kakashi to believe. He needed the jonin, their village leader, to take his word for truth and take a proactive stance if things were to ever change. Iruka understood what it was he was asking of Kakashi, to intervene in village affairs that were outside of his jurisdiction, understood the advantage he had, standing there, relishing the way Kakashi’s thumbs kneaded affectionately into the palms of his hands.

This would work, Iruka had convinced himself…because Kakashi wanted him as much as much as he wanted Kakashi.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll speak with Lord Shijimi, suggest to him a rearrangement where Jaakumi Fusako and the Jaakumi clan are concerned,” Kakashi said, his hands trailing up Iruka’s arms, his shoulders, to rest against his upper back. Iruka stared, unblinkingly, disbelieving of Kakashi’s response. The chunin didn’t know what he had expected from the usually belittling, arrogant, ass, but his answer left him speechless with approval. “You made a sound case, Iruka, and I trust your word. Lord Shijimi should be made aware of the conditions at the orphanage, regardless. Jaakumi-san should answer for her neglect.”

“Good.”

Iruka pulled Kakashi’s mask down and kissed him.

Kakashi reacted with urgency, the gentle press of Kakashi’s hands against Iruka’s back turning into a desperate cling to his body. The chunin sucked in a breath, relishing in the feel of Kakashi’s lips enveloping his own, pressing for more, fighting desperately for dominance. Iruka wrapped his arms around Kakashi’s neck, trailing his hands through the jonin’s static hair, clawing and gripping to draw Kakashi even nearer to him. They stood flush against each other, their movements turning frantic, before leaning their foreheads together in a break for air.

“I suppose this means I’m forgiven for this morning.”

“Shut up.”

They clashed, in another near violent kiss, while beginning an eager procession across the darkened room. Iruka matched Kakashi’s every step forward with a step backward, on equal footing, trusting that they would eventually wind up in his bedroom. The thought quickened his already rapidly beating heart, and Iruka fought to keep his lips attached to any part of Kakashi he could get with his anxious movements. They journeyed past the living room, down the hall, until Iruka felt his bedroom door at his back. Its abruptness caused them to collide, their straining members crashing into each other, causing them both to hiss in agonizing pleasure.

“Iruka…” Iruka reached for the knob and opened the bedroom door, the two of them stumbling into the room with locked lips.

In a frantic show of impatience, Kakashi quickly took to pulling at the hems of Iruka’s fatigues. Iruka responded in kind, tugging at Kakashi’s uniform pants. Their lips met in frenzied kisses, after every item of clothing removed, until nothing obstructed the contact of bare skin. Kakashi paused briefly, tracing his fingers over the dog tags around Iruka’s neck, and Iruka looked on, the corners of his lips curling upward. Kakashi’s fingers traveled upward, around Iruka’s neck, unclasping the chain with an expert hand before tossing the dog tags on top of Iruka’s dresser. The last of Iruka’s ensemble, his hair tie, came undone as Kakashi pulled down his perfectly poised ponytail. Iruka barely felt his hair graze his shoulders before Kakashi’s hands were in it, relishing the way Kakashi ran his hands through its thick strands.

Iruka sighed, resting his face against Kakashi’s, but Kakashi’s lips instantly searched for his at the contact, pulling Iruka into another deep kiss. Iruka’s hands began to roam, feeling for Kakashi, troubling the flesh of his torso with eager fingers. Iruka could see only an outline of the man, in all his glory, but wanted to see more.

It was clear Kakashi had no intention of stopping his assault, the fact arousing in the chunin a similar desire to continue, so he took Kakashi’s hands in his and lead the way. Kakashi’s tongue dipped into the space between his collarbone, and Iruka seized at the pleasurable sensation before continuing to guide them to the edge of the bed. Iruka dropped onto the mattress, inching his way up the bed, as Kakashi climbed over him, their shared excitement culminating in tender kisses, slow grinding, and shared smiles pressed between their lips. Kakashi reached over to the nightstand, turning on the light, flooding the room with a soft incandescence that allowed the jonin and chunin to see each other perfectly.

Kakashi ceased his relentless ministrations, propping his hands against the bed, taking Iruka in with his open eye. The jonin’s gaze roamed down his body and Iruka’s eyes followed, causing his face to flush, the sizeable length of Kakashi’s cock standing erect and in need of attention making his own, thick and weeping at the head, twitch with interest. Iruka couldn’t ignore his rising nerves, still, the way Kakashi’s eye explored his body reminding the chunin of how long it had been since anyone had been in any position to see all of him like this.

Kakashi was perfect. Everything, from the beauty mark under his lower lip, the wispy silver hairs of his chiseled jaw, to his sculpted build of muscles and skin that compelled admiration and attraction. Iruka reached out to explore the body above him, his fingers lingering on arrears of raised skin, the array of old wounds and scar tissue adorning the jonin’s chest…like the injury above his heart.

“It’s healing well,” Iruka said, softly, reluctant to break the shared silence between them. Kakashi followed his eyes, his touch, reaching up to join his fingers with Iruka’s as they pressed against the troubled flesh.

“Thanks to you,” Kakashi said, smiling fondly at Iruka, caressing his hand within his own.

Kakashi leaned forward and Iruka met him halfway, joining in a languid kiss. Iruka felt a slip of Kakashi’s tongue explore his mouth and he sucked hard against the offending organ as it searched for dominance. Kakashi moaned into his mouth, kissing harder, more forcefully, and Iruka smirked, for once, pleased by the response he’d provoked out of the jonin. Kakashi shifted, placing himself more effectively between Iruka’s legs, and the chunin’s head rolled back, the contact of their erections pure ecstasy after far too much neglect.

Iruka dragged his hands down Kakashi’s backside, pushing him down against him, until their bodies began a rhythmic pace of grinding. He held onto Kakashi, swept away by the steady increase of pressure pooling behind the ache of his erection, and Kakashi did the same, his hands grasping for purchase, the sweat of their bodies evidence of their restless yearning for release.

“Kakashi…”  Iruka moaned, Kakashi’s ministrations slowing just as Iruka’s breath had quickened, the movements of their bodies coming to a halt even as Kakashi’s lips continued to roam down from his lips to his chin and jaw. “…Kakashi?”

Kakashi didn’t respond, too busy trailing indulgent kisses down Iruka’s face and neck, lapping at the chunin’s nipples, before settling down to rest his chin against Iruka’s chest. Iruka wanted to ask what he was up to, how the jonin could look at him with such innocence and yet give off such an absolutely mischievous aura, but he couldn’t.

A part of him still thought he might wake up and realize this was all a dream. Hatake Kakashi could not possibly be in bed with him, naked and willing. The esteemed jonin, military leader of Konohagakure, could have anyone he wanted, and yet, for whatever reason, wanted him, a lowly chunin Academy teacher. All of Iruka’s insecurities hit him in a single moment and, suddenly, being under Kakashi’s studious eye while naked felt wrong. The exposure was too much, the fact that his hardened member pulsed under Kakashi’s form mortifying, and Iruka hated having made himself vulnerable before Kakashi, of all people.

“Kakashi, I—”

“You’re not getting out of this,” Kakashi muttered, frowning, reaching up to rest his hand against the chunin’s shocked face. “It’s in your eyes.”

“What is?”

“Doubt,” Kakashi simply replied, as if anything simple could be derived from the jonin. “You give me no end of hell, questioning my conscience because you believe I have one, so don’t shy away from this now.”

“I wasn’t—”

Kakashi silenced him with a relentless kiss and Iruka responded, instantly, kissing back more out of impulse than a conscious decision to embrace the trying man. Then Kakashi broke away, just as instantly, almost as if doing so because Iruka had reciprocated the kiss in the first place.

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“I didn’t.”

“You refused me this morning.”

“I refused you, because you were being an ass,” Iruka said, propping himself up on his elbows, offense in his tone, “like now.”

“You refused me, because you knew you could,” Kakashi stated, flatly, watching Iruka with careful inspection, “because that’s the power you wield over me now. The both of us know this to be true.” Kakashi buried his face in the crook of Iruka’s neck, planting chaste kisses against the skin alongside his words. “You’re demanding. You’re outspoken. You challenge my authority and get away with it, calling the shots because you know I want you, so don’t insult me by entertaining the idea that my interest in you is so fleeting.”

Iruka shoved Kakashi away and Kakashi didn’t resist, clearly having expected the reaction, his legs swinging over the side of the bed as swiftly as Iruka had pushed himself up and into a sitting position. Iruka trembled, hurt and annoyed, frustrated with the incompatibility of his feelings and the lingering response of his body to Kakashi’s touch.

“Why?” Iruka snapped, glaring at Kakashi, but Kakashi looked away, fixing his attention to a wall. “What sadistic pleasure do you get from discrediting my feelings, you cynical ass? Do you enjoy mocking me that much? Is this a game?”

“It’s not a game, Iruka.”

“Then why?” The question escaped Iruka in a rattled breath as his struggled to compose himself. “I don’t spend my time figuring out ways to manipulate you into being a reasonable human being, Kakashi. I used to wonder if the only reason you sought out my company was to humor yourself with tormenting the lowly and pathetic chunin sensei you think is so naïve and incompatible with the ways of a shinobi, so forgive me if I look at you and, sometimes, I’m afraid.”

Kakashi turned at this, his eye seemingly staring straight into Iruka, and Iruka’s heart quickened at that familiar sense of feeling exposed.

“If you didn’t want me having that power over you then, maybe, you shouldn’t have given it to me.”

“I was wrong.”

“What?”

“This morning,” Kakashi blurted out, looking to Iruka still. “I made a comment alluding to Yamato kissing you, knowing it would upset you, and said it anyway. I apologize for that.”

“Kakashi…”

“I do that, don’t I?” Kakashi pondered, smiling sadly, and Iruka couldn’t recall a time he’d ever seen such a look on the jonin’s face. “I say things, hoping to get a reaction out of you, Iruka. Whatever you think I think you are makes you different and that fascinates me,” Kakashi said, his brow raised over a hopeful stare, reaching out to rest a careful hand against Iruka’s left thigh. “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel in any way inferior to me. I am truly sorry.”

“No,” Iruka said, exhaling deeply, shaking his head to rid himself of any optimism. Kakashi leaned toward him, all the while Iruka thinking he might punch the jonin but the decisive moment never came. Kakashi shifted closer, inching his way up the bed, until his backside brushed up against Iruka. “I said no.”

“No?”

“You don’t get to apologize for one terrible thing after you’ve just said a whole bunch of new terrible things!” Iruka snapped, wanting very much to resist Kakashi. The jonin climbed over the bed again, over him, until they were practically in the same position as before. Iruka kept his hands fisted into the mattress but the allure of Kakashi’s face as it hovered inches before his own threatened Iruka’s resolve. “Kakashi…?”

“I’m sorry,” Kakashi whined, in his own, untroubled way. “I’m sorry.” Kakashi kissed the scar over Iruka’s nose. “I’m sorry,” he said again, running a hand through Iruka’s hair. “Forgive me,” he said, wrapping an arm around Iruka’s waist and pulling him back down against the bed. Kakashi planted his lips against Iruka’s face and down his neck, arching over the chunin in earnest to cover the rest of his body in apologetic kisses. “Will you forgive me?”

“If I did,” Iruka’s breath hitched, the way Kakashi’s kisses lingered, leaving wet prints against his skin, distracting, “w-what are you going to do to make up for it?”

Kakashi didn’t spare Iruka the time to brace himself, between his lips and the daring look in his eye, before his other hand wound its way around Iruka and pumped hard once. Iruka’s eyes snapped shut, his head hit the pillow beneath him, as the pleasure of that one stroke reinvigorated his entire body. Kakashi repeated the motion, rubbing his thumb over the tip and stroking back down again. Iruka moaned, subtly thrusting in to the touch, the vulgarity of his movements causing the heat to rush to the surface of his skin.

“Iruka-sensei,” Iruka hissed at Kakashi’s use of his formal title, thrusting into his hand still. “Your face isn’t the only thing that turns red.”

“Shut up,” Iruka panted, the only response he could think to throw out, and Kakashi smiled in response.

“I think I’ve proven myself incapable of that,” Kakashi said, continuing to stroke Iruka’s member, lowering his lips against the chunin’s stomach. “Although, there are other things I am eager to do with my mouth.”

“Other things?” Iruka lifted his head to better watch as Kakashi inched further down his body, planting kisses against his stomach, his hips, his thighs…until, eventually, Kakashi’s face was on par with soft tuffs of short, dark-brown hairs and the hardened member in his hand.

Iruka held his breath as Kakashi inhaled his scent, starting from the base, and exhaled an embarrassing whimper when the jonin’s lips glided up his length and settled against the head. The lewd act rendered Iruka gawking at Kakashi in shock and wanton need, the warmth of Kakashi’s lips against him enough to shatter all his inhibitions.

Kakashi kissed him there, as well, the way his lips glistened with the precum of his leaking cock an inappropriately enticing sight. Iruka moaned again, biting his lip, the jonin trailing kisses up and down his aching member resting his lips against the tip again. Iruka urged him to move but the jonin held him at the hips to stay still. All Iruka could do was stare back at Kakashi, scrutinize him the same hateful way Kakashi had scrutinized him, until whatever doubtful thoughts Kakashi had sensed in him vanished before the hopeful stare in Kakashi’s open eye. “I-I forgive you, Kakashi.”

Kakashi took him in his mouth, the suddenness of wet heat around his sensitive skin causing Iruka to arch off the bed in subsequent pleasure. Kakashi’s tongue worked quick, lapping around the head and venturing as far down as his mouth could go, his tongue licking along the underside in shameless procession. Iruka emitted gasps and loud whimpers, the close suction of the jonin’s mouth a pressure too overwhelming for him to take. He reached out, weakly, grasping for Kakashi’s mop of silver hair, urging Kakashi to let off but it was of no use.

This is what Kakashi desired, turning Iruka into fit of despondent moans and disorientation, his hands reaching up to rub against Iruka’s chest, his thumbing around Iruka’s nipples in expert harmony to the deep sucks of his mouth.

Iruka continued to squirm, and rightfully so, not use to such intensity. It had been so long since anyone had seen to him in this way and no one as seemingly skilled. It made Iruka wonder momentarily how Kakashi had gotten so good at this, other than imagining the jonin proficient in every pursuit in life, the thought of Kakashi taking to the bodies of others similarly rapt with the agony of his inescapable touch as invigorating as it was troublesome. Iruka dismantled the thought before it could truly flourish, not wanting Kakashi to stop, not wanting the jonin to see anything other than the pure ecstasy caused by his efforts.

Kakashi wrapped a hand around the base again, but didn’t release his mouth, stroking firmly to the rhythm of his rhythmic bobbing. Iruka fought against crying out, seizing to that effect, squashing the impulse so to save his neighbors from any idea of his current activities. He looked down at Kakashi and saw a knowing glance, the sheen of spit dripping from his mouth and down his erection as obscene as it was cruel.

“Ass,” Iruka panted, staring through lidded eyes, the way he disappeared and reappeared from within Kakashi’s mouth, wet and glistening, aiding to the growing intensity, the need for release increasing ever so rapidly that he feared, any moment now, he’d spill himself into Kakashi’s mouth without warning. “Kakashi, I-I think I might—”

“Lube.”

“What?”

“The lube in the nightstand drawer,” Kakashi elaborated, resting his lips against the tip again. “Could you hand it to me?”

“I don’t have any lube in the nightstand drawer,” Iruka said, because he’d moved it to the bathroom. With how often the ninken slept over, Iruka could hardly find the time or the privacy to indulge himself in his own bedroom. On those occasions, when his libido kicked in or when the proximity of the jonin now ghosting his lips over the throbbing flesh of him grew too stimulating to not seek release, Iruka would do so in the shower.

“I put it back,” Kakashi answered, dully, seemingly waiting for Iruka to react. Already flushed crimson, Iruka grew a shade deeper while reaching over and opening the nightstand drawer, not having to search long before finding the clear, more than half-used, bottle of lubricant. The chunin eyed it, briefly, the suspicion that he couldn’t possibly be the only one using the bottle confirmed by the familiarity in Kakashi’s eye. “It’s a good brand.”

“You’re buying more then,” Iruka hissed, giving faint thrusts into Kakashi’s loosened grip. Kakashi reached over, taking it from Iruka in a tender clasp of hands, before settling back down between the chunin’s legs. “Kakashi?”

“Lift your knees up a bit more, please.”

“What are you going to do?” Iruka asked, bending his knees in compliance, peering down with nervous anticipation. He watched as Kakashi snapped open the cap and poured a generous amount of the smooth, clear liquid over his fingers, with no fanfare, no more concerned than a shinobi polishing his weapons. Then Kakashi looked to Iruka, a question in his eyes. “Kakashi?”

“Iruka,” he started, caressing between the chunin’s thighs with his other hand. His fingers dragged across the heated skin, trailing down Iruka’s groin, through his pubic hair, before settling farther still, pressing against Iruka’s entrance. Iruka thought to flinch away, the intimacy of the touch drawing even more red to his face, but Kakashi’s caressing fingers never let up, grabbing at Iruka’s ass and squeezing the surrounding area. His face hovered between the underside of Iruka’s manhood, the warmth of his breath causing it to twitch, and Iruka’s more than exposed backside, before looking to Iruka for permission. “Allow me?”

“Yes,” Iruka said, breathlessly, not allowing himself much more thought. He nodded his head, ceaselessly, unwavering as he gazed back at Kakashi, wanting no uncertainty or miscommunication between them. Iruka even rolled his hips forward, hoping Kakashi would take the hint, would know just how badly he wanted this. Ever since Kakashi had promised as much, to take him, the memory of that night relentlessly tormented the chunin, fueling many long showers. “Please…Kakashi-sama.”

Kakashi groaned, his face falling into Iruka’s groin, and Iruka looked on, with some satisfaction, as Kakashi rolled his hips into the edge of the mattress. That satisfaction turned desperate the instant Iruka felt one of Kakashi’s fingers, cool to the touch and slippery with lube, prod the tight hole of his entrance.

“Relax,” Kakashi encouraged, and Iruka worked to do just that, closing his eyes to the sensation of the intrusion. His body went lax, eventually, to the careful in-and-out motion of Kakashi’s finger that was accompanied by a second finger shortly thereafter.

Iruka winced, more out of discomfort than pain, the scissoring of Kakashi’s fingers unnoticed entirely when Kakashi took Iruka in his mouth once more, stroking at the base with his other hand. The additional sensation sent Iruka gripping at Kakashi’s hair, pressing him deeper, further, and even his fingers seemed to delve deeper into his body, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that sent him reeling with painful pleasure.

“Kakashi!” Iruka convulsed off the bed, crying out, unable to stop himself. Kakashi removed his insufferably perfect mouth to speak.

“Settle down, Sensei,” Kakashi breathed against his weeping cock. “We wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear.”

“To hell with the neighbors,” Iruka huffed, pleasure shuddering through him.

“How rude…” Kakashi enveloped him once more, and the pressure building within Iruka became unbearable. The jonin inserted another finger, stretching Iruka for his girth, but Iruka was too far gone to notice. His breath hitched, his voice escalating to an ever higher pitch, as the swirling of Kakashi’s tongue, the stroking of his hand, and the thrusting of his fingers threatened to send him over the edge. The noises escaping him flew in the face of his desire to warn Kakashi, the press of the jonin’s fingers against that bundle of nerves deep inside him resulting in frantic breaths and stuttered words.

“K-Kashi,” Iruka screwed up his name, “please.... I’m going to, to, Kakashi—!”

Kakashi sucked harder, in response, his tongue dancing around the head and his grip tightening around Iruka as he pumped faster, more erratically, before Iruka’s back arched clean off the bed. His eyes clenched, his voice choked somewhere in the back of his throat, Iruka tensing as he came hard into Kakashi’s mouth.

Kakashi didn’t remove himself, as Iruka felt hot spurts spill from him and into Kakashi’s mouth. The jonin swallowed, sucking hard against him. With Kakashi’s fingers still in him and his mouth still moving perfectly around him, the chunin continued to convulse in ecstasy. Kakashi’s fingers slipped from him and his hands shot out to still Iruka by the hips, to keep him from moving too much as he licked and sucked from the base to the tip of Iruka’s softening member.

Iruka collapsed back onto the mattress, at long last, after Kakashi finally released him. His breathing settled and his toes unclenched, eventually, as Kakashi snaked his way up his person, kissing at Iruka’s body as he went. Iruka felt the evidence of Kakashi’s arousal, still very much hard and throbbing, drag over his skin only to strain against his own slack member. Iruka searched Kakashi’s face, his hands scraping down the jonin’s chest, smiling softly as indication of his contentment.

“That was…” Iruka couldn’t find the words. Amazing? Exhilarating? Incredible? Kakashi looked on, his knowing grin maddening, the chunin’s loss for speech evidently stroking his ego either way. The chunin looked down between them, at Kakashi’s still straining erection, growing apologetic at the sight. “Kakashi…”

“Iruka,” Kakashi hummed, kissing Iruka with abandon. Iruka curled his arms around the jonin’s neck, his fingers playing with the shorter spikes of hair at the base of Kakashi’s head. He could taste himself on Kakashi’s lips, the salty, bitter taste of him enticing to the chunin. He kissed hungrily at Kakashi, delving his tongue into his mouth as he pulled him closer, wrapping his legs around Kakashi’s middle and squeezing him down hard, earning a low moan from the jonin. “We’re not done yet.”

“No,” Iruka agreed, grinning slyly up at Kakashi. “We’re not.”

Iruka held his legs tight around Kakashi and tumbled over, towards the center of the bed, until it was Kakashi lying against the mattress and Iruka on top, straddling him. The jonin looked surprised, again, but equally amused, before Iruka brushed up against the firmness of his cock. Kakashi groaned, dropping his head back, and Iruka winced with sympathy.

“I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I’d hoped you had,” Kakashi growled, grasping Iruka by the hips. The jonin rolled Iruka into him again, pressing their lower regions together, his face darkening at the sensation of friction between them. Iruka felt it too, a growing need emerging from his last, his own member getting firmer in response to the contact of them rubbing together. Iruka leaned down, capturing Kakashi’s lips with his own, and bucked, provoking a needy whimper from the village leader beneath him. Kakashi continued to fling him forward, the force of their movements slow but rough, and Iruka relished the view of Kakashi’s absolute lust displayed in the subtlest lick of his lips and the intensity of his yearning stare.

Kakashi was right.

This was the power Iruka wielded over him. Iruka didn’t know or care to know for how long, but he would have never thought he could persuade Kakashi to change his mind about Naruto visiting Sasuke if it wasn’t true. Iruka approached Kakashi about the orphanage knowing full well it was because of this, this relationship between them, that Kakashi would trust in his words and take action on his behalf. Iruka acknowledged some foolishness to thinking that, after everything they’d been through, Kakashi would suddenly change his mind.

Kakashi could exercise a little more tact when it came to making grand observations, however.

“Shut up,” Kakashi breathed, smiling, but Iruka balked at his forceful tone. “I can hear you thinking.”

“Oh,” Iruka said, grinning knowingly, grinding ever-so-slowly against Kakashi. Kakashi emitted a guttural hum, his eye committing Iruka’s sensual movements to memory. Iruka thought back to that morning, considering his words teasingly. “Can you hear what I’m thinking now?”

“Nothing sanitary, I hope.”

Iruka reached for the forgotten bottle of lubricant teetering on the edge of the bed, ignoring that some of it had dripped onto the cover, and poured some into his hand, all the while aware of Kakashi’s rapt attention. The chunin thought of teasing Kakashi further, prolonging the inevitable, but Iruka reasoned Kakashi had waited long enough. He rubbed his hands together, getting the slippery substance warmed up, before teasing the head of Kakashi’s penis with the rub of his thumb. Kakashi lurched, attempting to put more of himself into the touch, but Iruka clutched his thighs against Kakashi to hold the jonin down and stop his fidgeting.

Iruka placed a hand around Kakashi’s length, holding it momentarily still, the feel of the man’s hardened cock as it pulsated in his grasp too thrilling to dismiss. A low noise escaped Kakashi, as Iruka’s grip tightened, and Kakashi’s fingers danced across the arch of Iruka’s backside with impatience. Iruka stroked once, from the tip to the base, receiving a hitch of breath from Kakashi. He repeated the motion, building up a pace, until the usually unaffected man at his mercy began pumping himself into Iruka’s hand. Encouraged, Iruka kneaded at the head and worked downward, feeling for every vein and slicking Kakashi with enough lube along the way.

“Does that feel good, Kakashi-sama?” Iruka asked, in what he’d hoped was a seductive hum, blushing.

“Better,” Kakashi murmured, his hands clamping down around Iruka’s ass, pushing the agreeable chunin for another roll of his hips. “I hope it stays that way.”

Kakashi’s eye bore into Iruka, but the chunin remained stalwart in reciprocating the glance. Only when he leaned over to take Kakashi’s lips in his, biting at the tender flesh that had grown a faint pink by the bruising of their kisses, did Iruka close his eyes. His heartbeat raced rapidly within his chest, his mind at peace knowing Kakashi’s heart raced just as rapidly beneath his own. Iruka reached around himself, as they kissed, feeling for the cleft of his ass and slipping his fingers inside himself. The act caused him to shudder against Kakashi, his erection to jolt back to life, and Kakashi squeezed his thighs in encouragement.

“Did I open you up enough?” Kakashi said low, against Iruka’s ear, causing Iruka to shudder even more.

“Yes,” Iruka confirmed, adding a third finger to asses the stretch of his entrance. There was plenty of lubrication and just enough left in the bottle, if need be, Iruka basking in the pressure of his fingers before removing them. Kakashi and Iruka shared one last lingering kiss before the chunin rose to a straddling position once more, holding himself against Kakashi’s chest to keep his balance.

“Iruka—wait.” Iruka froze, just as he was lifting himself into position, frowning as he settled back down.

“What’s wrong?”

Kakashi considered his words, watching Iruka with what surely wasn’t worry in his silver eye.

“…It’ll hurt,” the jonin began, his hold on Iruka weakening. “It’ll hurt a great deal, considering, but then it’ll feel good. I promise.”

“Kakashi…” Iruka felt a laugh wanting to escape him but Kakashi’s genuine concern and the grave look on his face was a sobering sight. “I’ve done this before.”

“…Oh.”

“A long time ago,” Iruka added, not wanting to fuel any fire of Kakashi’s vivid imagination. Iruka could see it now, the wheels turning in the jonin’s head, as he wondered briefly before drawing his own misguided conclusions as to whom Iruka might entertain in his bed. Although, now, this posed for Iruka an entirely new line of questioning, one that made his face burn. “Did you think I was a virgin?”

“No,” Kakashi answered. “I thought, maybe, this might be your first time with a man.”

“I’ve only ever been with men,” Iruka admitted, looking away, not wanting to linger on the who’s of his experience. “What about you?”

“Men and women,” Kakashi said, quick to assess the sudden distance in Iruka’s eyes. “Does that bother you?”

“What? No,” Iruka said, waving his hand at the idea.

“Good.”

Kakashi sat up, taking the back of Iruka’s head in his hands and kissing Iruka with a force, a need, and affection too powerful to ignore. Iruka returned the impassioned embrace, holding onto Kakashi by the shoulders as he lifted himself forward and aligned himself over Kakashi. Holding him close, gazing heatedly into his eye, Iruka lowered himself onto the jonin, the head of him pressing back in protest before slowly slipping past the barrier of Iruka’s body.

“Fuck,” Kakashi panted, taking Iruka by surprise. The chunin felt the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of his lips, delighted he could draw such a response from Kakashi, but that thought diminished somewhat as Iruka begin to feel the full stretch of Kakashi’s swollen member. Still, the beautifully distracting shock of pleasure caused by Kakashi’s length pressing into him more than made up for any discomfort. Kakashi’s hands fumbled to find purchase against Iruka’s hips, worried the chunin might move prematurely. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Iruka breathed, leaning his forehead against Kakashi’s. “How are you?”

“Ready to move,” Kakashi breathed back, his mouth gaping with the desire, “but I won’t, until you say otherwise.”

“Of course,” Iruka moaned, the pleasure hitting him like electric shocks from within, traveling right into his rising cock. “I’m calling the shots, remember?”

Iruka started slow, lifting up slightly before gradually lowering himself back down, the move alone forcing Kakashi’s eye to snap shut. The jonin’s jaw tensed up, his body jolting reflexively, and Iruka yelped in response to how much deeper he fell onto the man inside him. He repeated the motion, rising and falling, every time the length of Kakashi hitting him that much deeper. The nerves inside his body exploded with every precise thrust, until all Iruka felt was pleasure and no discomfort at all. He picked up the pace, still holding onto Kakashi’s shoulders for support, provoking a low moan from deep within Kakashi’s chest.

The jonin’s head fell against him, resting on his shoulder, and Iruka arched back when Kakashi’s tongue darted out to run across the length of his neck.

“Kakashi,” Iruka moaned, breathlessly, gaining speed. Kakashi remained dutifully still, as was his word, putting all his effort into bruising the skin of Iruka’s neck and shoulder with bite marks and the vacuum of his mouth. Iruka continued to ride Kakashi at a steady pace, Kakashi’s cock continuously thrusting into him with overwhelming procession, and Iruka needed for Kakashi to move. “MOVE,” he demanded, biting at the jonin’s ear.

Kakashi didn’t need to be told again. The jonin’s grasp returned in strength, forcing Iruka violently onto him. Kakashi groaned, loud and long, falling down against the mattress as he continued unforgiving thrusts up into Iruka. Iruka bounced with the new rhythm, Kakashi’s cock slipping out to the tip and ramming back in to the hilt with such seamlessness it was as if they were one body, one mind.

“Kakashi,” Iruka whined, staring down at his throbbing cock, in need of attention as it dripped onto Kakashi’s stomach. Kakashi took what remained of the lubricant, poured it onto his hand, and began stroking Iruka in rapid succession. “Kami, K-Kashi,” Iruka moaned, bucking into the man’s hand just as desperately as he bucked against him.

Iruka felt the pressure rise again, writhing against Kakashi, and Kakashi seemed simultaneously urged, his face screwed up in an expression of desperate need. Their bodies slapped together, skin against skin, and Iruka braced himself for what was to come, the expert strokes of Kakashi’s hand more than sufficient, pumping what felt like the life out of Iruka. Iruka looked Kakashi all over, at his beautiful face, before looking him in the eye, the intensity of it received twofold. Iruka could feel it coming, being so close that one hard stare amid Kakashi’s stroking and thrusting into him would be just what it would take to send him over the edge.

“Kakashi!”

Iruka tensed up again, his head falling back, his entire body violently seizing as he came hard, again, spilling across Kakashi’s stomach this time. Iruka rode himself out, until every drop of him exhausted itself from his person, Kakashi’s hardness still filling him with an ecstasy that caused him to convulse with overstimulation. He was not yet able to relax against Kakashi as Kakashi quickly wrapped an arm around his torso, holding the chunin close against him as he reversed their positions. Iruka settled against the mattress, somewhat disoriented, but the clash of Kakashi’s mouth and body against his gave Iruka no time for pause. Iruka had wrapped his legs tight around Kakashi, out of instinct, keeping the jonin securely inside him, until Kakashi arched back and pounded mercilessly into him.

“Kakashi…!” Iruka whispered against the jonin’s ear, clawing his hands down the jonin’s back. Kakashi’s thrusts intensified, lifting Iruka off the bed. He clung to Iruka’s body, filling the chunin to the hilt with his aching length, his withdrawing motions clipped and quick. Iruka felt that need in him, a need to be consumed by the wet warmth surrounding him, and something else…something more animalistic. Kakashi groaned, thrusting deeper into Iruka, and Iruka could tell by the strain in his face and the force of his hands, clutching at the chunin’s shoulders, that he was close. “Kakashi, please…inside me.”

“Iruka,” Kakashi growled, huskily, and, with one mighty thrust, came, shooting deep inside Iruka. Iruka felt it, cherished the sensation, the tightening of Kakashi’s body as he spilled himself into him enough to get Iruka excited again. Iruka’s lips sought out Kakashi’s and it wasn’t long before their lips found each other, kissing punishingly deep as Kakashi’s thrusts slowed to spastic pumps into his body.

The kiss shared afterwards was one of fatigue and contentment.

Kakashi wrapped his arms around Iruka, holding him against him, while Iruka raked up and down the jonin’s back with idle fingers. The chunin smiled to himself, at the pleasant finality in the air, the way Kakashi held him as if, in that moment, nothing else in their world mattered causing Iruka to embrace him back with similar passion.

“That was…” Kakashi lifted up, pausing. “You’re very good at this.”

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Iruka shrugged.

“We should do this again.”

“I agree.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Iruka said, smiling into Kakashi’s eager kiss. “Just not tonight,” Iruka said, against the jonin’s lips, reaching under to press a hand against Kakashi’s chest. “I can safely say you’ve exhausted me.”

“Pity,” Kakashi said, moping dramatically. Iruka rolled his eyes and shook his head at Kakashi’s ridiculousness, until the jonin moved to remove himself from inside Iruka. Iruka clutched at the sheets, felt himself clutch against Kakashi from within, his legs pinching against Kakashi, and it was Kakashi that had to talk some sense into him. “I can’t stay inside you forever, Iruka. It would, however, be nice to try.”

“Pervert,” Iruka admonished, playfully. Kakashi pulled out, slowly, watching Iruka, but Iruka wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how disappointed he was to feel him go, leaving an empty feeling deep inside the chunin.

Kakashi leant down for a chaste kiss before rolling over, taking up what space remained of the bed. The two stayed splayed out, staring up at the ceiling, for quite some time, the noticeable rise and fall of their chests eventually leveling to steady breaths. Iruka turned his head, looking to Kakashi, and Kakashi returned the glance, the both of them considering each other in companionable silence. Iruka found himself inching closer to Kakashi, after long while, bracing his head against the other man’s shoulder, not fully at ease until Kakashi’s arm wrapped around to pull the chunin up against him. Iruka went back to staring up at the ceiling, not knowing what to say, the slow strokes of Kakashi’s fingers against his stomach a small comfort.

“The ninken,” Kakashi began, also staring up at the ceiling. “They seem to think you’re upset with them, hence why they haven’t been visiting as of late.”

“They’re absolutely right. I’m very mad at them,” Iruka said, pushing his head slightly more inward to press a soft kiss against Kakashi’s chest. “They know why, too, and they’re welcome to continue to avoid my apartment until they rectify the situation.”

“Mm…” Kakashi placed his chin atop Iruka’s head of now disheveled brown hair. “Do I even want to know?”

Iruka looked to Kakashi, somewhat perplexed. The chunin imagined the jonin would know what his ninken had done. A part of him had the sinking suspicion that it had been Kakashi all along who ordered them to accost Yamato and that would have made every bit of sense to Iruka. Kakashi usually knew everything, all the goings on in the village, so that he could applaud himself on his own clairvoyance while admonishing others for their inferior foresight.

Iruka offered a small smile at the sheer ignorance on Kakashi’s face, before settling his head back down against him.

“It’s nothing to bother the Rokudaime of Konohagakure over.”

“If you insist,” Kakashi murmured back, kissing the top of his head.

 

* * *

 

 

TEN YEARS AGO

 

Jiraiya woke with a start, climbing out of his sleeping bag with a giant yawn. He’d spent all night keeping watch and, more importantly, working on the next installment of Icha Icha by the campfire. Whatever small cretin it was that had arrested him from slumber would find themselves on the receiving end of his ire soon enough.

                                                                                               

A tin can popped up from around the extinguished campfire, coming to life mere inches from Kakashi’s sleeping form.

“Eh?” Jiraiya inched near but not too close, not wanting Kakashi disturbed as well, first rubbing his eyes to ensure he was actually seeing what he believed he was seeing. In the dead of night, the light of the moon doused everything in a dark blue that did not bode well for even the best eyesight. Jiraiya reached down to pick up a stick by his foot, using it to reach over the campfire and prod the animated tin can.

The tin can popped off, rolling to the ground, as a small lizard appeared from underneath it. Jiraiya shook his fist at the blasted green creature, mutely, kicking the air to startle it and make it scamper off. The sage shinobi held his hands at his waist and looked towards the starlit sky, crossly, before glaring at Kakashi, all bundled up in his sleeping bag, soundly, the way he managed to cover all but the static mop of hair on his head absolutely admirable…

Jiraiya was not only a light sleeper, by shinobi standards, but one who found it difficult to go back to sleep thereafter. There would be no lying in his sleeping bag and hoping for the sweet throes of slumber to take him once more, no… The best he could hope for was that his mind was still in a good place to get more writing done. He could get all the sleep in the world, and a few bedfellows, when they arrived at the refugee camp.

Jiraiya looked to Kakashi’s peacefully sleeping form once more and sighed.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, kid,” he whispered, into the night, troubling a crick in the back of his neck with a skilled hand. “It’s all downhill from here.”

The wire came down around his throat with such swiftness that Jiraiya didn’t initially see it. His assailant pushed up from behind, attempting to pull the razor-sharp line clean through his neck, but the thick fabric of his clothes wouldn’t allow it.

Jiraiya wrestled with his attacker, tossing them over his larger build, the lone figure, shrouded in black cloth, sliding against the ground before him. They pulled out a kunai and struck air to which Jiraiya dodged, ducking low before blindsiding the novice fighter with a swipe of his leg to the back of their knees. Jiraiya stomped his bare foot against their head, after they fell, applying enough force to leave them concussed but not dead. He’d need the bastard to talk, after all…

“Kakashi, we’re under attack,” Jiraiya barked out, expecting this to rouse the jonin from slumber, but his alarming words had no affect. “Kakashi?”

Five more figures suddenly appeared, flashing down in an unavoidable assemblage. Jiraiya recognized the body count. The group, as he recalled, did not possess powerful chakras or overly complex skills of any sort. He could easily take them all out, with a few knocks to the head, and call it a day.

“Argh!” An invisible something stabbed Jiraiya in the shoulder, unseen and unheard, causing him considerable pain. The five hadn’t flinched, hadn’t moved at all, and yet— “Grr!”

Jiraiya fell to his knees, as something undetectable in any way, shape, or form, pierced through his legs.

“Is that all you got?” he laughed, staring his would-be executioners head on, searching their persons for any kind of evidence, or sign of weakness whatsoever, to use against them. “Go on then—Take your best shot!”

Their best shot never came, Jiraiya spotting what he thought could be a tell before all hell broke lose. A kunai flew into the air, glinting beneath the full moon, before running clean through the neck of the attacker flanking the right side of their uniformed line. They screamed for as long as they could before collapsing to the ground, the blood gushing from their wound gargling them silent.

Jiraiya took his opening, amidst the confusion, attacking the next one over. A more skilled fighter than the first assailant, Jiraiya would admit, but their taijutsu proved no match against his more fluid style, the sage’s shunpo alone enough to overwhelm the unknown attacker and enable Jiraiya to land a heavy blow to their head. The attacker stumbled but didn’t go down, pulling a sword from behind his back and preparing to charge.

Jiraiya rolled his eyes but similarly prepared for the oncoming attack.

Kakashi appeared, while Jiraiya dealt with his single attacker, taking on the other three. Jiraiya couldn’t help but stop to watch, whenever him and his opponent clashed or deflected, taken aback by the brutality of Kakashi’s quick work. He’d assumed accurately that it’d been Kakashi who threw the kunai that killed the other attacker and, under the faint light of the moon, Jiraiya now witnessed as Kakashi stabbed a dagger into the gut of the woman, Jiraiya suspected, on account of the higher pitched squeal that escaped her flailing body.

Kakashi twisted the dagger deeper, with unnecessary zeal, forcing the deceased attacker to stand before pulling the offending weapon from her lifeless body. It was a short span of time before he returned to fighting the other two, flipping over one to come up from behind and stab the other through the eye.

Jiraiya tripped his opponent to bide time, looking on, horrified by Kakashi’s ruthlessness.

“Kakashi, stop—” His opponent charged him again. Jiraiya growled out, in frustration, for having to entertain the advances of someone who, clearly, was no match. Except Jiraiya had a feeling that the attacker fighting him now was the lucky one, taking on him instead of his younger counterpart, as he would surely be dead or dying if encountered by the latter. “We’ll need information!”

Kakashi didn’t stop, seemingly transfixed, continuing on his senseless rampage. The group clearly wasn’t a threat to them, not at any level to take either of them on even on a one-on-one basis. Jiraiya had gathered as much earlier that day, when they’d encountered the group in their farmer get-ups, and so had Kakashi, and yet… The jonin surprised the third attacker with a roundabout kick, seizing the sword that fell out of their hand and dropping low behind them. Kakashi swiped the blade against the attacker’s stomach, in one clean motion, cutting them in two.

The blood splatter sprayed out as pitch black, just as it had with the others, and Jiraiya wondered what innocent bystander happening upon this bloodbath of a campsite might think come tomorrow.

“Kakashi!” His own opponent managed to land a blow to his face, knocking Jiraiya back, before throwing five small shuriken into his chest. “Gah!” Jiraiya hollered, the sharp points piercing his flesh, and he stumbled back, tripping over the rocks surrounding the campfire. He assessed his situation, determining that the stars weren’t in very deep, and proceeded to pull them out, one by one. “Kami, this hurts,” he winced, angrily tossing the shuriken away. His opponent came at him again but Kakashi descended upon them like a swift and murderous monsoon.

Jiraiya took advantage of the intervention, sitting back, wanting nothing more than to stop the inevitable but knowing he couldn’t yet get through to Kakashi. He looked to the younger man’s sleeping bag, the spiky tuffs of what appeared to have been hair sticking out of it, and lamented not realizing the decoy dummy for what it was sooner.

A bit of movement caught his attention and Jiraiya turned the other way, spotting the first attacker coming to. They stirred from unconsciousness, rubbing at where Jiraiya had knocked them out, and rose into a sitting position. Jiraiya scrambled to pull off the black garment around their head, pinning them back down against the ground in anger and annoyance.

“No, no, please!” The attacker begged. “D-don’t kill me!”

It was the boy.

“Who sent you?” Jiraiya asked, shoving against the boy’s chest. “There’s a spared life in it for you if you tell the truth.”

“I-I will! I promise!” Jiraiya climbed to his feet, holding out a hand, and the boy took it graciously. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want your gratitude, kid,” Jiraiya spat, “I want answers. Who ordered you to come after us?” The question must have sparked something in his mind, a thought, a memory, a fear, the whole of the boy’s body trembling as his face twisted into the worst horror Jiraiya had ever witnessed.

The boy bolted.

“Hey, get back here!”

The boy got ten paces away before Kakashi dropped down behind him.

“Shit!” Jiraiya cursed, having forgotten to keep an eye on the fight between Kakashi and the only other attacker still breathing. They now lay in a pool of their own blood, not but a few feet away, very much dead. “Kakashi, don’t!”

Jiraiya rushed upon Kakashi and the boy just as Kakashi stabbed the Chidori through the boy’s heart.

There was nothing more to be done, after that, with Jiraiya stepping back and allowing fate to unfold. The boy stared at him, eyes bulging and frightened, and he looked on, uselessly, there to watch the blood, brightened by dancing blue light, pour from his gaping mouth to the melodic claps of what sounded like a thousand birds chirping into the night.

Kakashi leaned over the boy’s shaking form as the boy started to cough, choking on his own blood.

“You should have been a farmer.”

Kakashi drew his arm back, dissolving the Chidori, and the boy, his gaze now dimmed, fell to his knees before collapsing at Jiraiya’s feet.

 

* * *

 

Iruka awoke to a weight across his stomach. Kakashi had turned in his sleep and, in doing so, flung his arm around him. That’s what he assumed, at least, given that the last thing Iruka remembered was resting his head against Kakashi’s chest while struggling to keep his eyes open.

The light was off, the covers pulled over him, and Iruka sighed into the peaceful night. His eyes adjusted, searching the dark for the jonin lying beside him.

Kakashi had abandoned his pillow, at some point, winding up with his face smudged unflatteringly against the bed sheet. Iruka beamed at the sight, the accompanying feeling of apprehension he felt a byproduct of seeing the jonin in such a vulnerable state.

“You’re drooling.”

“Mm,” Kakashi grunted, saying nothing else to the contrary. Iruka went to get up but the arm around him pinned him back against the bed. “…Where you goin’?” Kakashi mumbled into the mattress.

“I need to use the restroom,” Iruka replied, staring down Kakashi. “Is that permissible?”

“…If you must,” the jonin grumbled, loosening his hold.

Iruka climbed out of bed with an upturned brow, shaking his head at the other man’s absurdity. Still, his heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t quite shake the anxious feeling, the exhilaration at seeing the naked jonin lying in his bed, his doubt forgotten but his astonishment still readily apparent.

Iruka waded into two sets of clothing strewn out before the bed and huffed in Kakashi’s direction. He began picking up their uniforms, loudly, collecting it all in one go, pant legs dangling as he went.

A small piece of note paper fell out of the pile, he suspected from one of Kakashi’s pockets, fluttering noiselessly onto the floor.

Iruka tossed their clothes into the dirty hamper before doubling back for the note. He contemplated whether to leave it on the nightstand, turning it in his hand, but curiosity compelled him to take it with him to the bathroom.

“I’ll be back,” Iruka whispered, opening his bedroom door.

“…I’ll be here,” Kakashi mumbled, lifting his head to see him go.

Iruka switched on the light, thinking he should take a shower. He felt messy, sticky, covered in dry sweat and…other things. He peered into the mirror above the sink, blushing madly, the memory of their activities while overlooking his naked body overwhelmingly salacious. The chunin shook his head of such images, the lingering feel of skin against skin, Kakashi’s hands as they gripped his body, writhing against the jonin, riding him, the jonin inside of him…

Iruka chose to distract himself with the note. The chunin unfolded the piece of paper, imaging it was just a few notes Kakashi had taken during a meeting that he probably hadn’t bothered to rewrite in an official write-up. It had happened before, it would happen again, and Iruka would end up being the one to log it into records anyway, so he found no issue with reading it now.

The chunin backed away, slowly, until the back of his legs hit the rim of his toilet.

Iruka read it again, petrified, and again, horrified, his mind unwilling to process, trying to make sense of the coded message written on the otherwise insignificant piece of note paper:

**pow – full cap /**  
**confirmed – mind alteration /**  
 **completion of elimination /**  
 **delayed intel—result—error /**  
 **intel – migrants of fourth mist /**  
 **sovereign casualties /**  
 **status – neutralized /**  
 **state of emergency /**  
 **/ M. Int.F**

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. :)

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Heh. So...here's the re-posting of a fic I started writing SIX YEARS AGO. Gonna give it that good ol' freshman try again. I've been thinking about it more and more and decided, "What the hell. I should probably continue this story." I went in search for a copy of it, because the original document has long since been lost to the winds of time (read: an obsolete computer), and found that there seemed to be some lingering interest in where this story had originally been headed. Props to the orphan_account user for keeping the dream alive. Well, I've returned to pay back all that good will and appreciation. I am deserving of no friendly embraces because I'm the heartless bastard that left cold turkey in pursuit of real life obligations. Real life...ha! So hollow, those words are now. In any case, the first 25 chapters of this story will be re-edited versions of the original chapters I wrote and published on various sites before, like Fanfic.net and the KakaIru LJ community. I'm making it a priority to painstakingly comb through each chapter so that I can edit all those pesky spelling and grammar mistakes and also reacquaint myself with the initial over-arching storyline I had in mind. Whatever you knew me as before, Feliciaiswrite or Lynette N. Brian, yes, this is she. No, I am not an impostor. Yes, feel free to leave me a scathing review about how terrible an individual I am. I hope you've enjoyed the first offering of a very long apology.


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